“I told you to keep that animal under control. Now, get rid of it and get your brother home before you cause any more trouble.”
“No.”
The faint whimper that escaped the boy’s lips spiraled right into Anne’s heart. She was conscious of Danielle’s rigid stance beside her and that the look of anger growing on Maggie’s face mirrored her own fury at the outrageous behavior of this over-blown tyrant.
“You are quite mistaken. There is no trouble here.” Anne’s quiet words were tinged with enough frost to bring the tirade to an end and for the first time the stranger’s sharp black eyes moved from the children to her.
“This is nothing to do with you, Mistress. If these brats have bothered you, I’ll see they apologize and we’ll be on our way.” He scowled and raised a hand in a gesture of dismissal.
“On the contrary, they have much to do with me, sir,” Anne said sharply, putting on her haughtiest expression. “I have suffered loss and harm through their carelessness and demand restitution.” She heard a quick, indrawn breath and surreptitiously reached behind her to find the girl’s hand and press it in warning. They would have to trust her for a few minutes.
“Restitution! For what? You appear perfectly well to me,” he snarled.
Anne narrowed her eyes in a frown. “My person was injured and my foodstuffs damaged.” She held out her hand, pleased to see blood still oozing from the scrape.
“Yes, yes. Very well.” He banged his cane on the ground. “What do you want? I am not a rich man, so if it is money don’t expect me to be generous.”
“Generosity is not expected from you.” The subtle slur appeared to penetrate even this oaf’s air of self-importance and the flush on his face deepened. Good, he can be managed, like most bullies if you stand up to them. Anne pushed back her shoulders and stared down her nose at him. “I will take the dog, since it appears you have no further use for it. I have need of a watchdog, and I expect these children to come to me every day for the next week. They will care for the animal until she becomes accustomed to her new home,” she said in her most imperious voice.
“Watchdog! Not much use in that mongrel, but if you’re fool enough to want it....” His voice trailed off and he looked at her suspiciously. “Those two are another story. Can’t see where you’ll get much out of them and I’m not sure I want them traipsing off who knows where.”
Anne tried to keep her expression one of indifference, though her heart thumped in her chest and perspiration trickled down her back. “I assure you the Villa de campo des Flores, where I currently reside, is a respectable household, but if you prefer to call the authorities.…” She left the comment unfinished, not having the slightest idea of who the authorities might be, but had the strong notion this horrid man had no desire to make public his affairs. As well, she suspected the mention of the Condessa’s residence would be the determining factor.
“Villa de campo des Flores! Very well,” he conceded with ill grace, but there was a speculative look in his eyes now. “If you will give me your direction, Mistress, I will have my stepchildren there at the appointed time. No more than two hours a day, mind you. They have duties at home.”
I am certain they do, poor things. I don’t doubt you work them to death. “That will not be necessary. My servants will call for them and bring them home.” Anne waited until he grudgingly rattled off an address and then turned to the children, still silent as mice behind her. She took the dog from Guy’s arms. “I will care for her,” she whispered and was relieved to see hope mingle with the absolute misery on the boy’s face. Danielle, she felt, was quicker in understanding, for her sharp little glance at Anne was less fearful than stoic.
Stifling a sigh, Anne turned to face the stepfather.
“Your name, sir?” She did not trust him an inch not to renege on this agreement, which after some thought might seem ridiculously over the top for such a minor mishap.
“Claude Meraux, mistress.” He sketched a cursory bow, his scowl replaced by an equally unpleasant leer.
“Monsieur.” Anne tipped her head in acknowledgement, turned her face aside long enough to wink at the children, and stepped into the stream of shoppers. Knowing Maggie would soon realize her intent, Anne walked as slowly as possible.
“Are you mad? What are we going to do with a dog, when we can just about feed ourselves?” Maggie began, the moment she caught up to Anne. “I know you wanted to help those poor children, but surely there was some other way.” Her lips pulled back and she drew her brows together. “Trouble, this is going to be trouble. We have no business getting involved in the affairs of these people.”
Absentmindedly, Anne stroked the animal in her arms, who far from seeming concerned at being carried away from her owner, had snuggled comfortably against Anne and fallen fast asleep. “I don’t believe she will eat much, as small as she is.” She slanted a mischievous smile at her companion. “She can have my cabbage, in fact.”
“I doubt if dogs like cabbage,” Maggie grumbled, but her lips quivered suspiciously.
“No one of any sense likes cabbage,” Anne said, but her mind went right back to the animal’s owner. That all was not well with that family was clear to the most casual on-looker.
They turned into the narrow street where the villa stood protected by a high, stone wall that allowed only a view of the upper stories of the large house. From the street, the somewhat neglected condition of the building was not apparent, and Anne did hope the children’s stepfather was unaware the Condessa spent very little time here in the city, preferring her country home in Sintra. She unlocked the small wooden door at the side of the huge, ornate iron gates guarding the wide entrance, and they walked into the pleasantly cool courtyard housing the gatehouse where they lived. A wide expanse of handsome paving stones stretched the length of the villa, and several large oaks provided welcome shade.
“I had to do something and couldn’t think of anything better,” Anne said, as she opened the door to the small house snugged against the wall. The gatehouse had stood unoccupied for several years before Anne and her faithful companions had taken up residence. However, a good scrubbing had worked wonders. The gatehouse was sparsely furnished, but those pieces were of good quality and the small rooms adequate to their needs. Not for the first time, Anne sent silent thanks heavenward for the good fortune that had led to their residence here.
“I suppose you did,” Maggie said, “but interfering in someone else’s affairs, when we are hardly in a position to bring attention to us, is a mistake.” Looking resigned, she shifted the basket into the crook of one arm and held out her other for the dog. “Here, I’ll take her and get her settled in the kitchen. You can start thinking about how you are going to explain this to Mr. Fenton, and just what you are going to do with those children.”
Maggie trudged away, still grumbling, but Anne knew the woman, who had all but raised her, had a heart almost as soft as her own. Maggie and Bill Fenton had come into the McKenzie family with her mother when she married the dashing Captain McKenzie and had stayed on after Mrs. McKenzie’s death to care for Anne. Now, with the death of Anne’s father, they were all she had left. What family remained in Scotland she hardly knew, for with the exception of a rare visit to her father’s people, Anne and her mother had accompanied her father around the world. It was only after her mother’s death that Anne had sometimes attended a boarding school in Switzerland when a military post was not suitable for young women. Once she turned eighteen, however, Anne was usually able to travel with her father and the Fentons.
Her mind still on the events of the past few hours, and trying to decide what she was going to do if Monsieur Meraux refused to allow the children to come as charged, Anne removed her head scarf and went into her bedchamber to wash her face and hands. She grimaced at the disheveled woman reflected in the tiny mirror hanging above the washstand and picked up a brush. Hair neither blond nor brown, but what she considered a not especially attractive mixture, combined with a
straight nose and ordinary mouth into an ordinary face. Her eyes, green with flecks of amber, were her best feature, but even they couldn’t make her anything more than passable.
Which, she told the person looking wanly back at her, is to the good. The last thing in the world you want is to attract the attention of a man. You succumbed to that trap once before and look where it’s gotten you. Stuck in a foreign country, with limited funds and the constant fear of discovery—if they could just get to England!
Chapter Three
Anne and the dog settled on a bench outside the gatehouse to wait for the Fentons to return from collecting the children. She often sat there, enjoying the subtle perfume from the flowering vines clinging to the house and wall. A fountain provided a soothing tinkle of water and enormous pots filled with greenery were scattered throughout the courtyard.
She was grateful that none of the Condessa’s family chose to live here, meaning Anne was free to make it her temporary home. Fate had placed the Condessa and her maid on the same ship from Gibraltar as Anne. The Portuguese women had been dreadfully sea sick, with only Anne and Maggie willing to nurse them. She never expected the Condessa’s generous offer of a place to stay when Anne let fall her need for somewhere out of the way to live.
The sound of children’s voices roused her from her reflections, and Anne hurried to greet them. “Bonjour, mes enfants. It is very good to see you. Bonnie has missed you.” Indeed, Anne felt the animal in her arms quivering with excitement.
The boy’s solemn expression lightened. “Bonjour, mam’selle.” Gravely polite, but equally aquiver, he achieved a credible bow before he held out his hands. Bonnie yipped, leapt to Guy, and licked his face.
Anne watched the reunion for a moment, and then turned to Danielle, who dropped a brief curtsey and motioned toward the black-clad woman standing behind her. “Our maid, Fatima, is charged with our care.”
Somewhat taken aback by the presence of the maidservant, although she should have expected they would not come alone, Anne hesitated. She had planned to sit outside, giving Guy and his pet room to play, but she felt uncomfortable asking the woman to do so, especially since the seating consisted of several rustic chairs and a bench. She looked at Maggie and Bill, lingering to watch the scene, and sent Maggie a silent appeal.
“Fatima will do fine with me in the kitchen,” Maggie said at once. “We can fix some juice for the children.” She beckoned to the maid, managed a credible “Come, please,” in Portuguese, and walked toward the house. Bill took that as his cue to disappear as well.
“That will be very nice.” Anne smiled and then looked at Danielle. “I thought it might be pleasant to sit outside. It will give Guy room to play with Bonnie.” Indeed, boy and dog were already scrambling about in some game or another. She sat down and motioned toward the other half of the bench. “Please join me, Miss Durant.”
“Mam’selle.”
The girl was poised on the edge of the seat, her expression no less rigid than her set shoulders, and Anne hid her dismay. Gaining this child’s trust was going to be difficult.
“Was it a fair distance to come from your home? I am not familiar with much of Oporto, other than the market and this immediate neighborhood.”
“Not very far, mam’selle.” Danielle slanted a quick glance at Anne. “Thank you for sending your people to escort us.”
“Why, you are quite welcome. I hope the fact that Mr. and Mrs. Fenton speak very little French did not cause difficulties with your stepfather.”
“Monsieur Meraux was not to home.”
Anne could not determine from this flat statement whether the child was pleased or sorry, and there was little to learn from that stony expression.
“Does your Fatima speak French?”
“No, but I have learned some Portuguese and we manage.”
“I have learned very little Portuguese, I’m afraid,” Anne said with an apologetic smile, “and my French is no more than adequate. You will need to be patient with me.”
Danielle studied her for a long moment. “You do very well, mam’selle. Also, I know some English. Together we shall contrive.” She glanced at her brother, who was tossing a ball to Bonnie, then looked straight at Anne. “Will you tell me, please, why you helped us yesterday? Why you pretended to be angry and offered to take Bonnie?”
Anne answered honestly. She could not expect this guarded and fearful girl to confide in her if she began with evasions or lies. “I had the feeling your stepfather planned to make an end to your pet. I don’t know what Bonnie did to make him so furious, but the punishment seemed excessive, and I was afraid that if I tried to defend you it would make things worse.”
Danielle bit at her bottom lip, glanced again at her brother, and after a brief hesitation, nodded her agreement. “Monsieur Meraux does not care for dogs. He has wanted to get rid of Bonnie almost from the time Guy found her.” She paused, took a quick breath, and said in a rush, “My brother would be désolé. The dog is a tie to our life in France, for we found her just before we left to come here.” She dropped her gaze to the hands folded tightly in her lap. “She is a comfort to Guy.”
To you as well, Anne judged, but refrained from any comment, and indeed, Danielle’s head came up, the careful stolid expression back in place, and the moment passed. A not uncomfortable silence fell between them, and Anne unobtrusively studied the girl beside her. Her black hair was pulled back from her face without so much as a wisp allowed to escape the thick braid wound tightly around her head. It seemed a harsh style for so young a girl. She could be no more than twelve or thirteen at most. Nor did it compliment her too-thin face. It appeared the child was determined not to allow even her hair to display any emotion.
How could she break through this unnatural reserve? Anne turned the puzzle over in her mind until Guy and Bonnie had tired of their game and the boy came across the courtyard to sit on the ground at his sister’s feet, the dog in his lap. Anne looked at his flushed face and smiled.
“Are you thirsty? I’m sure Mrs. Fenton has something refreshing ready for you. Will you excuse me for a moment?” She stood and hurried to the kitchen, where Maggie had two cups of juice already poured. Fatima was not in evidence and Anne raised her eyebrows in question.
“She went off to some shop or other,” Maggie said with an indifferent twitch of one shoulder. “At least that’s what I think she said.”
Startled at this casual supervision, Anne looked at Maggie in surprise. “The woman does not seem a proper guardian, but at least you are spared her company.”
Anne picked up the tray, carried it outside, and handed the children their drinks before resuming her seat. She was determined to use this time to her advantage. Perhaps the boy was an easier target. “Bonnie minds very well, Guy. Did you teach her?”
Guy looked proudly at the now sleeping dog. “She is clever, isn’t she? I taught her some things, but she already knew sit and stay when we found her.”
“Your sister said you found her in France.”
“Yes, it was very good luck for us.” A quick smile lit his thin face. “Good luck for her, too, since she was lost.”
“It certainly was,” Anne agreed. She caught a length of vine and wound it through her fingers. “How long have you had her?”
Guy looked at his sister. “It has been several months, I think.”
“Three months and two weeks.”
The girl’s answer was more revealing than Anne felt was intended, but at least the child had said something.
“Do you plan a long stay in Portugal?” she asked in as off-hand manner as possible but judging from the way Danielle’s lips tightened and Guy buried his face in the dog’s fuzzy coat, the question was unwelcome.
“We have not been informed as to that. What of you, mam’selle? You are English but you live here?”
A short answer and a quick change of subject. Frustrated as she felt, Anne could not help but admire the girl’s skill. “For a short time. I expect to be leaving
for England in a few weeks.” They had to leave, and soon. It was just a matter of time before her whereabouts became known. The longer they stayed here the more dangerous it was. She leaned forward a little and added, “The Condessa has kindly allowed us to stay here, although she herself is currently in the country and of course has taken most of her servants with her.” It might be better if Monsieur Meraux was not aware of their exact circumstances here, and Anne hoped her underlying message was clear.
A flicker of comprehension crossed Danielle’s face. She looked as if she might have more to say, but the sudden appearance of Fatima at the door to the house put an end to any further conversation. The woman looked impatient and for all the lack of a common language, easily communicated her desire to leave.
Annoyed at this attitude—the woman had been the one to go off, after all—Anne rose and put on a haughty look. “They will be ready in a few minutes, when they have finished their juice and my servants are free to escort you.” Not servants, Bill and Maggie, but this woman would not think they were anything else. “I expect the children to return tomorrow, Fatima.” Her Portuguese was limited, but she could say that much.
Danielle set her glass, and Guy’s, on the tray. “We will come if permitted,” she said in the grave, un-childlike manner Anne found so disturbing.
Guy handed Anne the dog, smiled shyly at her, and bowed. “Thank you for the juice, mam’selle, and for taking care of Bonnie.”
Anne watched from the door as they hurried away, hand-in-hand, with Fatima grumbling behind them and the Fentons following along more slowly. She could only suppose the maid feared a scold if not back by a certain time, but she trusted Bill to make sure they never left his sight.
Dispirited, for she had learned little about them, Anne closed the door, collected the glasses, and wandered into the kitchen. She wouldn’t mind a little juice herself. Bonnie was content, after several noisy gulps of water, to settle on the blanket Maggie had put down for her. Anne filled a glass and sat down to wait for Maggie to return, but it was Bill Fenton who first stomped into the kitchen with a scowl on his face.
An Inconvenient Wife Page 2