“It is hard to think of anything else when you are concentrating on music,” she explained. “Do you play, Mr. Blackwell?”
“No, ours is not a musical family.”
His short reply discouraged further conversation. Anne left him to his pacing to look for Guy and Mr. Fenton. The dog would go with them, she supposed, and she was surprised to realize she would miss the little creature, even if Bonnie’s sharp bark sometimes grated.
Guy was flushed and grubby from his play, and Anne took the time to help him wash and gave him a glass of juice before collecting his sister. Danielle, she was relieved to see, had regained her normal composure and followed stolidly behind them.
The Fentons were in conversation with Mr. Blackwell when they stepped outside and Anne’s eyes narrowed. Bill was not above relating some of their problems to a fellow countryman, but Anne assured herself Maggie would keep him in line.
“Miss McKenzie.” Blackwell turned toward her as they approached. “I will escort the Durants as Mr. Fenton tells me he has an errand in the other direction.” He glanced down at the children. “Are you ready? Your maid is waiting, and I want you home on time today.” He nodded at Anne. “I will see you tomorrow when I call for them.”
Anne blinked at the abrupt farewell, if one could call it that. Annoyed and suddenly dispirited, she locked the gate behind them and trudged back to the house. Perhaps she would do well to follow her advice to Danielle and immerse herself in her music. If only to keep from worrying about what Bill might learn at the Consulate, and thinking about the comely man who had so disrupted her world.
Chapter Eight
The man was late.
Blackwell leaned against the window frame to watch for Meraux. Taking full advantage of the easily cowed maid, Fatima, he had sent her and the children off with the Fentons. Danielle had heeded his instructions; she and Guy each carried one small bag, presumably filled with their prized possessions. He was appalled by the sparse collection of children’s clothing in their bedchambers, a parsimony that fueled his anger. Keeping his hands off the man was going to be difficult. Blackwell wanted to give Meraux a good thrashing, but hesitated to give the Frenchman grounds to complain to any authorities. The documents he had found would be enough.
He turned to rest his back against the wall by the window and removed a sheaf of papers from his coat pocket. The search of Meraux’s chambers had been more rewarding than he had expected. Either the man was a fool or he had no fear of discovery, since he had not seriously attempted to hide Danielle’s adoption documents and terms of support. The Frenchman was not going to be pleased to learn they were now in Blackwell’s hands. The mystery of why Meraux seemed to have ample funds was answered. La Comtesse had provided generously for her niece.
A key grated in the lock on the front door and he straightened, put the papers in his pocket, and strolled to the entryway.
“Good afternoon.”
Meraux dropped the hat he was about to hang up and gaped at him.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my house?” He looked past Blackwell into the room behind him. “Danielle! Guy! Fatima!” he shouted, his expression turning grim when no one responded. He stepped closer to Blackwell. “You blackguard, what have you done with them? I’ll have you arrested!”
“You will not.” Blackwell ordered, not moving. “What you will do is sit and listen.” He motioned to a chair and scowled, eyes narrowed and mouth drawn tight. His face felt set in stone, and he was unsurprised to hear the Frenchman grumble something under his breath before he dropped into the indicated seat. Like most bullies, he’d backed down easily enough.
“What do you want? If it is money, you might as well know up front that I am not a rich man,” Meraux sputtered under Blackwell’s cold stare.
“You have more than you deserve, Meraux, and I am going to be generous and not take your ill-gotten gains.” Blackwell bared his teeth. “Blackguard is too nice a word for what you are. You prey on children, steal their inheritance, and your disgusting attempt to force yourself on a young girl is so far beyond the pale I don’t even have words for it.”
“She is willing!” Meraux jumped to his feet.
Blackwell grasped the Frenchman’s neckcloth in one hand and twisted it. “She..is..not.” He spit out the words, shoved the florid-faced man back into the chair, and tightened his grip. “You will never come near Danielle again or I swear I’ll see you strung up—and it will not be by your neck.” He looked pointedly at the man’s privates and released him. Meraux shrank back as far as the chair would allow.
Blackwell took out the papers and slapped them against his palm. “Your dirty deeds are known, Meraux. Here’s the proof that you have been living off Miss Durant’s trust fund, provided by La Comtesse, for her niece, not you.”
“I’ve fed and clothed them, even put up with that damn dog,” Meraux growled. “As their guardian, I’m entitled to that money!”
“Prove it.” Blackwell caught the flash of consternation in the Frenchman’s hate-filled eyes and smiled grimly. His guess that Meraux was not their guardian appeared to be correct. “The children are no longer your concern.”
“But I want her! She’s mine,” Meraux whined.
Blackwell was amazed at the petulant thread of bewilderment in the man’s voice; as if the girl were a childhood toy he was being denied. He stared at the Frenchman until he squirmed under his cold gaze. “She is not yours. Stay away from her, Meraux.” He picked up his hat and gloves and started for the door, ignoring the spew of curses behind him.
“You want her for yourself!” Meraux shouted accusingly.
Slowly, Blackwell turned. Meraux was on his feet now, his face twisted in an ugly grimace.
“I’ll find out who you are and then we’ll see who is in the right. The English Consulate might be interested to hear that you intend to steal away my stepdaughter. Her reputation will be ruined and yours with it.”
Blackwell’s rage rose with every word. With careful deliberation, he removed the gloves he had just put on, placed them both in his left hand, and stepped forward to deliver a satisfying right cross to Meraux’s chin. The man dropped like a stone.
“If I hear one rumour of your filthy lies, you can count on more of the same.” Blackwell gave his groaning victim one last look and left the room.
He paused in the lane behind the house to breathe deeply of the moisture-laden air before making his way around to the street. Miserable maw worm. Too bad the cur hadn’t the gumption to stand up to him, so he would have had the pleasure of knocking him down again.
Blackwell rubbed his stinging knuckles and pulled on his gloves. He was expected at the villa to collect the children, but first a stop at a cantina for a much-needed drink was in order. He chose the same establishment he had visited a few days previously, where he could find a quiet corner to down his brew and think through the encounter with Meraux.
The barman greeted him pleasantly, filled his order, and indicated a vacant table off to one side of the low-ceilinged room. No one who knew Blackwell would believe the Frenchman’s nasty accusations, but mud tended to stick, however untrue. Besides, the chance of anyone learning of his involvement with the Durants was slim. He had every intention of getting them aboard the Lady Gay and headed for England within a few days. What if someone does hear of it, Westcott? You may see Danielle as a child, but not everyone would. You know how vicious gossip can be. The girl has enough to contend without the gossipmongers calling her soiled goods. Some people are ready to believe anything and relish passing it along.
His mind drifted to Miss McKenzie, as it had too often in recent days. Perhaps she could advise him, maybe find a maid or governess willing to travel to England with him. Which, unless the governess is in her dotage, would only make things worse, you idiot. What’s needed is a respectable matron to act as chaperone, an older woman above reproach.
“Which you are not apt to find, Westcott,” he muttered. He finished the ale and
rose. It might be that Carlisle could suggest a solution. He had to meet with the Captain in any case, inform him of the situation, and arrange to sail as soon as possible. Still turning ideas over in his head as he walked to the villa, Blackwell’s mood had not improved when he arrived at his destination, and he rapped impatiently on the thick wood panel.
“Mr. Blackwell.”
“Mrs. Fenton.” Blackwell was becoming accustomed to the woman’s curt manner. Knowing she had no taste for idle chatter, he took the jerk of her head toward the courtyard as an invitation. They were all outside today, no matter the damp, cool air, and he stood back to study them. Miss McKenzie was settled in a chair by the fountain; Guy curled up in her lap, his sister and dog at her feet. Danielle had a flute in her hand but was half turned to look up at her teacher. Miss McKenzie said something that made the child smile and laid a gentle hand on her head.
Blackwell was struck with a longing almost painful in its intensity. He wanted a woman to give that care and compassion to Sarah. He wanted her, Anne Mackenzie, to love his daughter, nurture her as she grew into womanhood. As a governess? The idea was instantly dismissed as unacceptable. Anne’s class and temperament precluded such a role. She would never accept that and her presence in his household as such could hinder his petition to the court to grant him the wardship of the Durants.
You could marry her; take her back to Hampshire as a mother for all the children. Blackwell waited for the expected strike of horror to hit him for even entertaining the thought. His marriage to Camille was not one as to encourage a second but, in some strange way, he was certain Anne was nothing like his first wife, and his biggest concern was that she would instantly reject the idea.
How to persuade her? She is in some kind of trouble that marriage would no doubt resolve, and she loves those children. Enough to make up for a loveless marriage, Westcott? But many women marry for lesser reasons. You can give her your name, position—a home. That surely counted for something. Just not your heart. Sarah, and only Sarah, had his heart now.
He watched the trio a few minutes longer and then walked over to join them. Guy appeared to be half-asleep, but Danielle sprang to her feet, looking so frightened he forced a smile.
“I have made all the arrangements necessary with Monsieur Meraux and you have no reason for concern. He will not bother you again, Miss Durant. In any case, we leave for England in a few days.”
“He won’t?”
Disbelief tinged her words, and now his smile was genuine. “He will not.”
A long breath escaped her. “Merci.” And then, as if the enormity of it had just sunk in, she whispered, “England?”
“England,” he confirmed, aware that Miss McKenzie followed this exchange with avid interest. He looked down at her. “Perhaps I can speak to you privately, Miss McKenzie?”
She gazed at him, raised her brows, and gently woke Guy. “Would you please take Guy inside, Danielle? Find Mrs. Fenton and ask her for some refreshment.” She set the boy on his feet, stood, and shook out her skirts. “The damp seems to make clothing wrinkle terribly,” she said as the children scampered away with Bonnie nipping at their heels.
Blackwell surveyed the heavy black gown. “A lack of creases is not going to make that dress more attractive. Why do you wear such clothing, anyway? Colours would be far more becoming.”
A pained expression crossed her face. “Certainly they would,” she retorted, “but the material is cheap and I attract less attention this way.”
He put a hand under her arm and began to walk. “Avoiding attention appears to be an objective with you, Miss McKenzie. Will you tell me why?”
“It is, and I will not,” she said with some asperity, her look daring him to question her further.
“A pity.” It was an unexceptional comment, one that judging from her surprised expression, was not what she expected to hear. He had no intention of questioning her about the past right now, however. He led her back to the fountain and motioned toward the chair. With one booted foot resting on the stone wall that enclosed the water, he braced an arm against his leg and gazed down at her. Some of her hair had escaped the knot at her neck and tendrils curled around her face. She was too thin, he decided. Just how short of funds she was, and why?
“It is true? You have persuaded Meraux not to contest your plan to take the children to England?” Anne asked.
Pulled from his thoughts by the question, Blackwell nodded. “I was fortunate in finding Danielle’s adoption papers, as well as the document outlining the terms of the trust arranged by her aunt. Just as we surmised, Meraux is not their official guardian. He has no legal rights to Miss Durant in particular, and doubtfully Guy.”
Her sigh held a wealth of relief and she gave him a grateful smile. “I am so pleased for them. And now you are taking them to England. Where will they go? To your friends?”
“That, Miss McKenzie, is quite possibly up to you.”
Her eyes widened, but in that patient manner typical of her, she leaned her head to one side with an air of interest and made no comment.
Blackwell stared at the splashing water while he chose his words. An immediate refusal from her might make her feel unable to change her mind. Better if part of the idea came from her. “I find myself with something of a dilemma here. Danielle and her brother must go to England. They cannot stay here, and any travel to France as long as the war continues is out of the question, even if they did have relatives there.” He straightened and sat on the wall beside her. “The problem is that traveling with an unmarried man will damage Danielle’s reputation irreparably. And before you say no one need know of it, please believe me when I tell you it will not remain a secret for long. People will be curious about her, and they will gossip.”
“You are a widower, Mr. Blackwell?”
He nodded, and she fell silent, her expression a picture of concentration. In fact, the silence went on so long he was tempted to say more. Patience, Westcott. Give her a chance to think it through and come up with the answer you need.
“This is a problem, sir. I feel the children will have enough difficulties adapting to a new country without being the subject of negative attention.” She drew her brows together and laced her fingers under her chin. “You need a governess who will agree to travel to England.”
“I had thought of that but it also presents a problem. An unmarried woman will also be at risk for her reputation, however unfounded the rumours.” Blackwell’s words flowed as he prayed the gods would continue to favour him. “The voyage to England will be aboard a working vessel, with no other passengers.”
“Uumm, yes, I see that,” she murmured.
Blackwell went on as if she had not spoken. “What I need… is a wife. I am asking you to marry me, Miss McKenzie.”
Her hands dropped to her lap and she blinked owlishly at him. “W...what? Surely you cannot be serious! We scarcely know one another.”
He put one hand on hers. Her skin was warm, the fine bones as delicate as a bird’s. The sudden desire to protect her was unwelcome and hastily suppressed. Choosing his words with care, he continued. “Think about it before you answer. I know enough of you to understand you are a moral young woman who cares about others. You love those children and would be a good mother to them. With a wife at my side, I will be in a better position to make Danielle and Guy my wards.” He let the ramifications of his comment sink in before he pushed on.
“No, you do not know me well and I realize I am not an easy man, but I am able to comfortably provide for a family.”
Anne appeared to be shocked speechless, but Blackwell felt her level of dismay was tempered by the fact that she was at least listening. Encouraged, he added gently, “I also know you are in some kind of trouble.” He raised a hand to prevent her denial. “Mr. Fenton implied it, without going into any detail, and I guessed as much from your irregular position here.”
She stared at his hand on hers, and then slowly shook her head, a puzzled look in her eyes. “Su
rely you can find someone to act as chaperone. A couple, perhaps. This seems a great sacrifice on your part, Mr. Blackwell, and radical in the extreme.”
He removed his hand and stood. “Not a sacrifice. My daughter needs a mother, Miss McKenzie. She was crippled in an accident some years ago. I’ve tried to be both mother and father to her, but she is growing up and I cannot give her the same kind of guidance a woman can.” His voice was harsh. He heard it, but the effort to even say the words precluded any attempt at moderation. Unsettled, he moved away and began to pace.
“Sarah needs a mother, but you do not need, or want, a wife, in the true sense of the word. Is that correct?”
The quiet question brought him to a halt. She was quick of mind, too astute, and he prepared himself for disappointment. “That is correct.”
A soft gasp behind him, followed by the sound of her skirts rustling as she stood and took several steps toward him. “Do you insist on an immediate answer?”
He turned to face her. She appeared calm, her face devoid of expression, until he looked into her eyes. Questions? Speculation? Fear? He was not sure what he read there, and she lowered her eyelids before he could decide.
“No, certainly not, but delaying departure overly long would not be wise.”
She glanced at him and voiced her agreement. “Very well. If you will return here after you take the children to your friend’s home, I will have an answer for you. Now, if you will excuse me.”
No wait for his answer this time. She entered the house before he could think of anything to say. At least she had not outright refused. Hope lingered yet.
An Inconvenient Wife Page 7