“I hope Bill is careful,” Anne said fretfully to Maggie as they walked home.
“You worry too much. Mr. Fenton is not one to be careless. He won’t be seen but whether he can get any information is another thing,” Maggie said sharply. She unlocked the door, stepped inside, and dropped her basket on the bench outside the house.
Anne freed Bonnie to run around the courtyard and sank into a chair. “I can’t help it,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Our position here is so precarious. I’ve gotten nowhere in helping the children and money is getting to be a serious problem. I never expected to be marooned here this long.”
Maggie’s expression softened and she rested her hand on Anne’s for a moment. “You are helping the children, just by being a friend. They get easier around you every day, and I’ve never seen anyone enjoy music like Danielle does.”
Anne brightened and smiled a little. It was true. Along with her guitar, she had brought her flutes and a recorder, and Danielle had taken to the flute with extraordinary interest. Guy toyed with the recorder, more interested in Bonnie, but paid enough attention to satisfy Meraux when questioned, although the Frenchman appeared to have very little interest in the child. He paid more attention to Danielle, Anne surmised from what the girl had let drop. But whether it was a healthy interest or something else…. She let the thought slide away. She had enough trouble at hand without allowing her imagination to run wild.
“She is a pleasure to teach.” Anne squeezed Maggie’s hand and stood. “Speaking of which, I’d best put away my instruments.”
“Play something for me first.”
Anne started, for other than during the music lessons, she had not touched her flutes these past months, but after a speculative look from the older woman, followed by one of her rare smiles, Anne was disarmed. Perhaps it was time to find out if her music provided the solace she had found in the past. She had nothing else to do and it might make the wait for Bill to return pass more quickly.
~* * *~
“Certainly I am going to go with Bill and the children.” Anne tightened her lips and glared at Maggie. “That man followed them again today and not carefully, according to Bill. Since all we know about him is that he is an Englishman, someone needs to put a stop to it before it comes to Meraux’s attention. Or even Danielle’s. She is a bright girl and very observant.”
Maggie snorted and raised her chin with a jerk. “And you think you are the right someone to confront a stranger with who knows what in mind?” She set down the pitcher with enough force to bring the vivid red liquid dangerously close to the top. “Let Mr. Fenton make some more inquiries today before you do anything foolish.”
Anne let out a loud breath. “You know that juice stains dreadfully,” she reminded Maggie in an effort to change the subject. They had been over this before and Anne knew she was not going to convince Maggie that she was perfectly safe in a public market with Bill at her side. She summoned a smile. “I know you are concerned for my well-being, Maggie, but it is something I need to do. Come, the children are waiting, and the sooner this is done, the better.” She leaned over to pat one of Maggie’s work-worn hands. “I will not do anything foolish, I promise.”
Maggie looked unconvinced, but filled two glasses and handed them to Anne without another word. The serving of a beverage was now part of the routine, after a romp with the dog, a music lesson, and these precious few minutes of conversation when Anne was able to draw snippets of information from Danielle and Guy. Disquieting information at times, although neither child ever came out and said their stepfather mistreated them. They have more than implied it, Anne, and what can you do about it? The man would laugh in your face, at best, and certainly forbid them to see you. Nor will you be here much longer now you’ve promised the Fentons to apply to the English Consul for funds in a few days.
Smoothing her expression to appear unconcerned, Anne went outside, handed each of the children a glass, and sat down on the bench between them. Bonnie was curled up on Guy’s lap and Anne gave her a little scratch on her head. “You have quite worn her out again.”
“It is good, oui?” Guy looked up at her and grinned. “She likes to play.”
His smiles came more often now, and Anne was pleased to have accomplished that much. Danielle was more reserved, but had lost that wary look, at least when she was here. Anne ruffled the boy’s thick hair. “Someone else also likes to play, I think.”
Both the children had dark hair, but Guy’s was closer to a true black. He was not a handsome lad, his face too thin and his nose just a shade long, but the expressive dark eyes and sweet smile were bound to charm the ladies someday. Gracious, Anne, they charm you, spinster that you are!
“What do you prefer to learn today? It is near time for you to leave, so choose something easy. No counting to a hundred.” They giggled at that, remembering the day they had insisted on trying to memorize the English numbers, and Anne chuckled.
“Some clothing, mam’selle,” Danielle suggested, and pointed to her shoes.
“La chaussure…shoe,” Anne began, and chanting after her, they covered the clothing worn by all three of them. They soaked up everything Anne taught them with a relish both refreshing and enjoyable. Danielle especially appeared to have an aptitude for the language. She had made more progress in these few weeks than Anne had in a year of French lessons as a child.
“Miss McKenzie.”
Bill’s appearance put an end to the session, and Anne smiled regretfully at the children. “We will start earlier tomorrow,” she promised, and darted inside to get her headscarf and gloves.
Fatima was waiting for them outside the gate, looking more impatient than usual, and Anne glanced at the watch pinned to her blouse. They were a bit late. The maid, after the first few days of sitting though the music lesson, went to visit a friend once she had seen the children inside, but always reappeared promptly at the time agreed.
Anne paid careful attention to her surroundings as they hurried along, but annoyingly, no stranger followed them today. And after you have worked up the nerve to confront him! It was most vexing. But no, there he was after all, lurking about near Meraux’s house, and the flutter of nerves resumed in her stomach. Trying to appear unaware of the eyes focused on her, Anne took Bonnie from Guy and bade them good-bye, but the prickle one gets when being stared at traveled up her spine.
“I see him now, Miss Anne,” Bill Fenton said in a low voice as he stepped up beside her. “He must have been waiting here for us. What do you want to do?”
Eyes straight ahead, Anne set a brisk pace. “Go to the market as we planned. I do wish you had been able to find out more about him.”
“I could try again today. At least go back to see if the Senhor Lusitain learned the fellow’s name yesterday. Or maybe if he goes home….”
“No.” Anne cut him off in mid-sentence. “Knowing his name is not going to tell us anything.” Bill grunted his agreement, although a sideways glance at his face told her he was not pleased by her insistence. But foolhardy as it may be, she felt drawn to the man in some uncomfortable way.
They stepped into the marketplace, and were instantly surrounded by the cries of the vendors and the hum of conversations carried on above the noise. The area holding the herb seller’s stall was relatively quiet, and they moved slowly in that direction. Keeping a few steps behind Bill as he shouldered his way along the aisle, Anne shifted Bonnie more comfortably into the crook of one arm, wishing she had insisted that the dog stay with Maggie. She had just decided to pass the animal to Bill when she saw the stranger leaning against a wall, staring fixedly at her. She touched Bill on the shoulder to get his attention and stepped with him to one side.
“He is just ahead. This is the perfect time, while it is not so crowded—and I still have nerve enough.”
“You do not have to do this,” Bill insisted.
Anne’s free hand fluttered up and down in denial. “I do, I do. Here, take Bonnie.” She thrust the dog at him, whirl
ed around and marched toward her nemesis—who had disappeared.
Anne stopped abruptly and stared at the spot where he had been a moment ago. How could…? The sudden hard grip on her arm shocked her to such an extent that she allowed her captor to guide her some distance before she found her tongue. “Just what do you think you are doing?” she hissed, attempting to pull free.
“I am avoiding a public scene, Miss McKenzie, which I believe you were about to initiate. Don’t worry, your watchdog is right behind us.”
Anne glanced once at the stranger’s stern expression, looked over her shoulder to see if Bill was in sight, and with a meekness that both surprised and infuriated, trotted along beside him.
By the time they reached a quieter side street, the anger had won out, and Anne made another, futile, attempt to break his grip. “If you do not release me this instant, I will scream, I swear it.” She stopped, dug in her heels and glared at him.
He looked down at her, raised his eyebrows in a mocking expression she immediately detested, and removed his hand from her arm. “I’m tempted to put it to the test. I don’t think you will, but since this street is not unpopulated…. Give me a few minutes of your time and I’ll bother you no more.”
“Are you all right, Miss McKenzie?” Red-faced and panting, Bill hurried up and planted himself in front of Anne. “I don’t know what your game is, Mister, but you’ve no business accosting women like that!”
The Englishman looked at them both for a moment, his mouth pulled into a thin-lipped smile, and he let out a loud, harsh breath. “No, I do not. My apologies, Miss McKenzie, but it is urgent that I speak privately with you.”
Whatever secrets the man hid behind that now bland expression, there was enough sincerity in his unusually clear hazel eyes to give Anne pause. She did not like his high-handedness in the least, or the inherent arrogance lurking under the now polite surface, but she was curious about him and his interest in the children. In fact, she strongly suspected his only interest was Danielle and Guy.
Anne touched Bill on the forearm. “I’m fine, Mr. Fenton. While I can hardly approve of Mr…?” She tipped her head in question.
“Blackwell.”
“…Mr. Blackwell’s manners, I have no objection to speaking with him.” Anne lifted Bonnie, who was watching the proceedings with great interest, into her arms. She raised her chin and looked pointedly at him. “Not here, however. If you will accompany us to our residence, Mr. Blackwell? You know the way.”
His mouth twitched at this sarcastic reference to his spying, but he refrained from comment and followed Anne and her companion along the street.
“Come in, sir.” Pleased that her cool, calm voice displayed no inkling of the way her heart banged heavily in her chest, Anne preceded the two men through the gate and into the courtyard. “If you will wait here, I will join you shortly.”
The thought of inviting him into the house was fleeting. He was not a guest, but a man who had spied on them! Besides, the rooms were too small and he was too big. Not burly big, but tall and muscular for all his whip-chord thin build. He is nothing like the Major, Anne. You must not allow him to intimidate you. She splashed some water on her flushed face, pushed the hair escaping from beneath her headscarf back in place, and called to Maggie to join them before hurrying outside.
He stood in the center of the courtyard staring at the villa, hands clasped behind his back and Anne hesitated in the doorway, but it seemed his hearing was acute, and he swung around to face her.
“Why aren’t you living in the main residence? I cannot believe the Condessa was so inhospitable. From what I have heard of her, she is a very kind woman.”
Anne felt her face harden with irritation. “I don’t see that it is any of your concern, Mr. Blackwell, but I will certainly not refute her reputation. She is a kind and generous woman and welcomed us to her home. I chose to stay in the gatehouse.” Despite the note of finality in her voice, he looked as if he wanted to say more on the subject, but Anne stepped out and indicated one of the chairs Bill was placing near the bench.
“If you will have a seat?” She sank down onto the bench beside the door, leaving the other chair for Maggie. Bill preferred to stand, unless he chose to disappear altogether. He was not much of a talker, and as she expected, went off when his wife appeared in the doorway. “Mr. Blackwell, this is Mrs. Fenton, my companion.”
“Mrs. Fenton.”
Blackwell returned Maggie’s curt nod and took the seat indicated. Well, that did not bode well for a friendly conversation. Maggie’s colour was as high as Bill’s, without the excuse of rapid walking, and her black eyes snapped with distrust. Anne leaned wearily against the wall of the house. Now that the mingled feelings of indignation and anger had subsided, she felt exhausted and wanted nothing more than to drink something cool and lie down on her bed.
“If you have something you wish to discuss, Mr. Blackwell, please do so.” She folded her hands in her lap and tilted her head in a false show of patience.
He looked from her to Maggie, appearing to understand that any discussion included both of them, and asked in the mildest tone she had yet heard him use, “What are you doing here in Portugal, Miss McKenzie?”
Thrown by so unexpected a question, Anne drew back and blinked. “That cannot be of interest to you, sir. Indeed, I might ask the same of you, should I feel it my business, which it is not, unless it relates to the explanation of why you have been following us around.”
Blackwell paused for so long a time Anne thought he was not going to answer, but finally he leaned forward, hands resting on his knees. “That was entirely incidental. My interest is in the Meraux children but, for various reasons, I cannot approach them directly. I want you to arrange for me to meet them.”
“Why? What possible reason could there be?” Anne frowned. “You must be more forthcoming, sir. My position with the children is not so secure that it can survive having their stepfather learn I introduced them to a strange man.” She looked straightly at him. “A man, I might add, who does not even know that Danielle and Guy do not bear Meraux’s name.”
His expression guarded, Blackwell waited several minutes before a sharp, “I see,” escaped him. He leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I admit I know very little about this family, and know nothing of this boy. However, I came all the way from England to give Miss Durant something—I do know her name—and do it without Meraux’s knowledge. From what I have learned since my arrival, I have the feeling it would not be to the girl’s advantage to have her stepfather involved.” He gave her a mocking smile. “Isn’t that the case, Miss McKenzie?”
For someone who professed to know so little, the man was surprisingly accurate in the conclusion he’d drawn from his observations, and Anne had no grounds to deny it. The less Meraux knew the better for them all.
She lowered her eyes and clasped her hands together to keep from the nervous twisting she was prone to when upset. She looked at Maggie, knowing already she could expect no help from the older woman, and as surmised, had nothing but a shake of the head from her. Anne peered at her guest from under her lashes and felt a surge of annoyance at his look of barely veiled impatience. She did not like this man, or trust him, but in all fairness, the decision was Danielle’s. And if the girl agreed, wiser the meeting here, under Anne’s watchful eye, than in the street somewhere.
Anne raised her head, catching the barest hint of sympathy in Blackwell’s eyes. Perhaps he did have some idea of how difficult this was for her. The thought, however untrue it was, warmed her enough to produce a faint smile. “Very well, sir. If Danielle agrees, you can speak to her here. Come tomorrow afternoon for your answer.” She stood. “Now if you will excuse me, Mrs. Fenton will see you out.” Anne knew it was rude, but she’d had enough of those intent eyes watching her every move, and without another word, she fled.
Chapter Six
Blackwell—he had felt no need to use his title— had no intention of waiting until the a
fternoon to meet with Miss McKenzie again. He was still smarting from his expulsion yesterday, and it was an expulsion, however politely he’d been ushered to the door. He had found out nothing of value, about the girl, or Miss McKenzie and her companions. What were they doing here, living in a gatehouse, instead of the main house, where he knew they were welcome? How had she come to take those children under her wing? And if she wasn’t prepared to go to the wall for them, you have totally misread her character. He had a few questions for the lady.
Blackwell paced rapidly along the street, ignoring the light rain as too commonplace to notice, and when he arrived at her gate, resisted the urge to kick it open and instead knocked—loudly.
Her watchdog answered, looking none too pleased to find Blackwell on his doorstep. “Mr. Fenton. Good day. I would like to see Miss McKenzie.”
“Would you, then? I don’t believe you are expected until later in the day, Mr. Blackwell.” Fenton stood square in the doorway, his expression non-committal.
But not hostile. Somewhat encouraged, Blackwell nodded. “Yes, I know Miss McKenzie suggested an afternoon visit, but we had little time yesterday, and it is important that I speak with her before meeting Miss Durant. If you could ask her to spare a few minutes?”
The older man studied him intently, and then stepped back. “Well enough. Stay here.” He waited until Blackwell had stepped inside, closing and locking the door behind him before walking toward the house.
Blackwell moved to stand in the shelter of a large tree. He had paid little attention to his surroundings yesterday and took advantage of the time to examine the courtyard. As was common to Oporto, fountains gurgled on both sides of the drive and a path of beautifully painted tiles led to the door. Pleasant now, with cooler weather, but he knew from experience that in the summer these courtyards were like ovens. He preferred the rainy season. Today the rain was light, no more than a mist. Would the lady invite him inside, or make him stand out in the wet? That is, if she saw him at all. He was considering various avenues to pursue if she did not, when Fenton reappeared.
An Inconvenient Wife Page 4