Mags met Carolly at the front door. She wore a pretty frock of bright yellow, and matching ribbons peeked through her dark curls. But even that gay ensemble could not disguise the nervous way she pleated and repleated her skirt.
"Carolly, you cannot truly wish to go back there."
"Hush. Do you want to be a prisoner all your life? We must face them."
"But must it be today? And alone? I am sure Uncle would not like it."
Carolly felt her misgivings sour her stomach. "He would only want to come along, Margaret, but this is something we must do without him. Do you understand that?"
The girl pushed out her lower lip. "But you promised him you would not go without speaking to him."
"And I have." Just not explicitly. She'd told him that provisions still needed to be brought up from the village today. She hadn't mentioned a thing about who would get them. "Besides, Mrs. Potherby knows where we are headed. If you don't want to come along, so be it. But I am going." So saying, she stepped firmly out the door, her face lifted toward the sun, her heart in her throat for fear the girl would call her bluff.
Fortunately, Margaret wasn't one to refuse a challenge. Not anymore. Very soon, Carolly heard the girl's angry stomp behind her. Ten minutes later, they were in the gig and tooling down the lane at a slow, steady pace.
"Could we please go faster?” the girl complained.
Carolly twisted slightly, unable to resist teasing her. "A few moments ago you acted like you'd rather die than go. Now you complain I'm driving too slow."
"Since I am to die, I want to do it quickly and get it over with." The girl sounded truly nervous.
Carolly reined in the horses, stopping them cold in the middle of the road. "Do you really think they will kill us?"
Mags folded her arms and pouted. "They tried to last time, didn't they?" she said.
"Well, sort of." Carolly tried a different tack. "Do you understand why the villagers are so angry?”
"Because Uncle James will not hire them in the mines."
"Yes. Sort of. It is because they are starving. Do you think they would be so upset about losing their jobs if they had other ones to go to? Other ways to make money?"
Margaret chewed on her bottom lip. "I guess not." Then she looked up, her eyes wide and vulnerable. "But why do they hate me? None of this is my fault."
Carolly sighed. "I know. That's why I wanted you to come along."
"But—"
"Just listen to me. They hate you because you're a lot easier to hate than James. After all, he still supports most of their jobs. They also don't know anything about you. So we're going to let them get to know how generous and sweet and totally innocent you are."
Margaret tugged at her hair, her face puckered in a worried frown. "But how will we do that?"
Carolly pulled her large purse out of her pocket and dropped it in the girl's lap. "You're going to spend that."
"All of it?" Margaret asked, her eyes wide as she hefted the heavy bag.
"All of it. You're not going to give it away, mind you. You will buy things. Lots of things. We will get presents for all the staff, and we're going to tip little boys and girls to carry out packages to the gig. We're going to admire the craftsmanship of everything and everyone, and we're going to be cheerful and happy and gay."
Margaret appeared to mull that over. "But what if they start saying awful things?”
"Then you will smile like you haven't a brain in your head and stare at them vacantly."
"But—"
"You're a little kid, remember? Young. Innocent. You don't understand how nasty they're being."
Margaret puckered her face, clearly uncomfortable with the characterization. "But I do understand."
Carolly sighed. Truly, the girl had lived with James too long. She was simply too honest. "They don't have to know that, do they?"
"You want me to pretend I'm stupid?" Margaret's frown turned into clear outrage.
"I want you to show them how wonderful you can be."
Margaret shook her head, still not willing to act stupid, even for safety's sake.
Carolly bit her lip, trying to come up with other options. "All right. How about when they say something mean, you smile indulgently at them? As if you had a great secret no one else understands."
"But—"
"Mags, the trick is to meet their hostility with mystery or innocence. Or compliments—those are always good. Just so long as it isn't anger or the sulks." She leaned forward, trying to get Margaret to see. "Pick an attitude. Make it part of you and use it whenever someone tries to hurt you. If you can react differently than they expect, you've won half the battle because you've kept control." She reached for the girl's hand and squeezed it tight. "Do you understand any of this?"
Margaret nodded, but the movement was slow and slightly forced. "So, what should I do?"
"What do you want to do?"
She was quiet a long time, but when she spoke it was with conviction. "I think I'll tell them about my mother. Show them how happy I am to be the daughter of a commoner. That's what Uncle James said to do, and it will be easy for me because I really am glad she was my mother."
"Well," said Carolly, her insides melting with love, “I think your Uncle James is a very smart man. And I think if your mother were here, she'd be very proud of you. I know I am."
Margaret looked up, her eyes filled with a cautious uncertainty. "Do you really think so? That she would be proud of me?”
"Most definitely."
Then the two grinned at each other, suddenly very much in accord.
"Okay, Mags," Carolly teased, "are you ready to spend an unseemly amount of money?"
Margaret nodded, her eyes shining bright in the morning sunlight.
"Then let's get to it!" Carolly flicked the reins, and they were off again, tooling down the lane in high spirits.
Twenty minutes later they strolled into the general store. It wasn't easy. There were some gasps and stares and a lot of grumbling. But all that negativity quickly ended with the flash of gold.
Carolly started out simply, paying for the things they ordered while Margaret tipped generously wherever they went. It didn't take long for Carolly to realize that power shopping was the same whatever the century, and soon she and Mags were having a marvelous time.
It wasn't until the fat woman from the inn came into the bookstore that their first truly awkward moment occurred. The two of them had been giggling over some scandalous political cartoons when the woman entered and gasped in horror.
"Whatever were you thinking, Silvia?" the woman exclaimed to the shopkeeper's wife, "to allow her within your doors?” She looked down her nose at Margaret as if the girl were some sort of disgusting bug.
It was on the tip of Carolly's tongue to tell the woman exactly what she could do with her high, pointy nose, but this wasn't her battle. All she could do was nod encouragingly at Mags and keep her mouth shut.
The girl stepped forward, her face open and sweet. "My mother had hair like yours," she said, her tone openly admiring. "I used to watch her dye it. It would make her arms all brown, but you must come by yours naturally."
The woman gasped. "What contemptible taradiddle! Comparing me to that strumpet."
Margaret only smiled. "But my mother was the most beautiful woman alive. Except she didn't have your hair, so she had to dye it. And that made her arms dark. That's why she wore gloves all the time."
The woman stood there gaping while Margaret sailed sweetly past. Carolly followed quietly behind, trying desperately not to laugh. She settled for a fond grin, knowing that Mags would be fine. Even if Carolly left tomorrow, the girl had discovered a confidence that would carry her through life beautifully.
They moved on to other stores.
Everything went splendidly until the moment they saw Garrett on the road. He was surrounded by a circle of women and a few older men. Carolly wasn't sure why the sight bothered her, she only knew that it did. She paused, narrowing her ey
es to pick out more detail.
As usual, Garrett cut a figure of distinction. His clothing was elegant, though understated; the cut fine, but dark. In fact, his short nose and freckles were the perfect touch, making him seem more approachable and honest than James with his austere features. And, as usual, Garrett was oozing charm.
"Stay here a minute, Mags," Carolly said softly. "I want to hear what he's saying."
Carolly walked slowly toward him. Garrett was speaking passionately to a couple of young women, and the others had simply stopped to overhear. In fact, Garrett seemed almost
uncomfortable with all the attention—not that that stopped him.
From the distance, Carolly couldn't hear what he said, could only pick out his mannerisms. He seemed compassionate and sincere, as a minister or politician might be. And whatever he was saying, he certainly had popular opinion on his side. Carolly heard more than a few mutters of "'E's right" and "Wish 'e weren't the nestle-bird," whatever that meant.
One old geezer shook his head at her and wandered off muttering something about "stubbing the nest." It made no sense to her, but Carolly didn't have time to learn more. She heard the pounding of a horse at full gallop coming fast up behind her.
She spun around, nearly tripping over Margaret who had followed despite Carolly's warning, only to have James and Shadow nearly run them both down.
"James!" she exclaimed, as he reined in his stallion. "What are you doing?”
"Are you all right?” She watched him scan the scene, his gaze taking in everything from her muddied hem to the shocked and disgruntled expressions of the people around them.
"We're fine," she said smoothly. "We were just picking up provisions for the festival."
Carolly stepped forward, pressing her hand against Shadow's sweat-streaked neck as she looked up into James's worried face. "Aren't you supposed to be at home greeting your guests?”
He frowned down at her, and when he spoke, the words were forced through his clenched teeth. "You promised you would not leave without speaking to me first."
"James," she began, but Garrett interrupted her.
"Come now, dear cousin. Caroline is not your prisoner," he said.
Carolly frowned at Garrett as he took her hand and began escorting her and Margaret back toward the gig. She would have thought him concerned only for her welfare, except that
he kept his voice loud. It carried easily to the people still milling about the street.
"Try not to be so cruel, James," Garrett continued. "She was only trying to spread a little good cheer."
The villagers nodded and muttered while Carolly beat her brain for some way to redeem the situation. All around them people sent her and Margaret looks filled with sympathy, saving their acid gazes for James. Somehow, in the space of a few moments, Garrett had managed to turn public hatred toward James while reserving the roles of helpless victim for herself and Mags. And by glaring right back at them, his posture defensive, James was playing right into Garrett's scenario.
"James," she began.
"Hush, Caroline," interrupted Garrett. "I know you have had a difficult day. Let us get home immediately so that you may rest."
"But—"
"Come along, Caroline. Margaret." That came from James, ordering them to fall in line in his most imperious manner.
Carolly sighed, knowing she wouldn't be able to fix things right now. James was too angry with her for disregarding her promise to him. He was staring daggers at everyone, herself included, which only reinforced his evil image. She'd have to try another day.
Giving in to the inevitable, Carolly allowed herself to be escorted back to the gig, now buried beneath their morning purchases. She had no choice but to sit demurely while Garrett drove them back to the manor, James and Shadow walking steadily beside them.
She might have sunk completely into the dismals if it hadn't been for Mags. Just before they started off toward the manor, the child sent her a look filled with commiseration. Next time, her expression seemed to say. Between you and me, we'll set things right.
* * *
"You deliberately went back on your word!"
Carolly sighed and plopped down in the chair across from James in the library. "This is old territory, James. Read me the riot act and let's be done with it."
He frowned at her. "What has the Riot Act have to do with this?"
She shook her head. "Nothing. Listen, James—"
"No, Carolly. It is time you listened. You gave me your solemn oath you would not leave the grounds without consulting me first."
"And I haven't!"
"You did today."
"I haven't until today."
"Is that supposed to make a difference?"
"Yes!" She leaned forward, setting her forearms on his desk as she tried to make him understand. "It was important that Mags and I go alone. If I had told you, you would have insisted on coming along."
"I certainly would have. Imagine my shock and fear when I learned that the two of you had gone out alone. Again!"
"But nothing happened!"
"That is entirely beside the point."
"No, James, that is the point." She pushed away from the desk, standing up to pace between two dark mahogany bookcases. "If I were you, I'd be more worried about what they'll do to you next time you show your face down there."
"I am the earl. They will do nothing to me."
Carolly swung back around to face him. "Don't count on it. Garrett was—"
"Garrett was simply trying to protect you. He was helping them see you in a different light."
Carolly threw up her hands in disgust. "Don't be so naive, James! He was turning them against you."
She hadn't realized the truth of her words until she spoke them aloud. Even though she hadn't heard Garrett's words, she now realized he had been skillfully manipulative, inciting the village against his cousin. How could he do that? And why?
She turned toward James, needing to see if he understood the horrible things his own heir was doing to him. But when she looked, she didn't see dawning comprehension, only a grim certainty.
"James?"
"I am not naive, Carolly."
She paused, licking her suddenly dry lips as she stepped toward James. "You mean you know what Garrett has been doing?”
James shrugged. To her surprise, she realized his anger had dissipated, replaced by a sad acceptance as he folded his hands precisely in front of him on the desk.
"But why?" Carolly asked, starting to pace again. "Why would Garrett do this to you?"
James did not answer until Carolly collapsed back into her chair, and then only because she glared at him until he spoke.
"Besides the inheritance, Garrett owns a sizable share in the mines and deeply misses his lost income. I believe he thinks if he can incite the villagers, I will be forced to rehire the women and children."
"Thereby returning the mine to its former production level and his previous level of income."
"Yes."
Carolly shook her head, unable to fathom that anyone could be so greedy. "How badly does he need the money?”
"Bad enough."
Carolly tilted her head, wondering what alternative to suggest. She decided to try being blunt. "Cannot you simply forward him the income?”
"Were he to ask for my assistance, I would gladly forward him the required amount. But he resents taking funds from me almost as much as I dislike his wastrel lifestyle."
Carolly frowned, disliking the note of censure in James's voice. "You would punish him for his problems? I thought you were friends."
"We have our moments. But I would definitely take steps to prevent him from falling into such difficulties again, were I given the opportunity."
Carolly squirmed in her chair, disliking James's firm stance, but recognizing the sound of an entrenched position. James clearly did not like the life Garrett led, but he refused to help unless asked. And Garrett was clearly too proud to ask, but was becoming more des
perate by the second. Whose pride would break first? And what damage would occur in the meantime?
"Have you tried speaking to him? Perhaps if you phrased it just the right way, he would feel more able to talk with you."
Carolly hadn't thought it possible, but James's expression became even more grim. "I am afraid not. None of my talks and lectures, or even my more subtle interventions, have sufficed."
Carolly bit her lip. "This has happened before?"
He nodded once, a quick slash of frustration.
She looked down, toying with the folds of her skirt. "Just how long have you been paying off his debts?"
"Since he was in leading strings."
Carolly sighed. "Perhaps if you helped him this last time and told him it was his very last chance. That you would not—"
"I did. Last time."
"Oh." Carolly bit her lip, racking her brain for a solution.
James looked at her, his eyes bleak. "I told him that the next time he approached me, I would put severe restrictions on his income, and I would also let it be known that I had disinherited him."
Carolly sat bolt upright in her chair. "Can you do that?"
He shrugged. "He'll receive the title and a modest income from the near lands no matter what, as long as I don't have a son." His gesture was expansive as he indicated the house
and grounds. "The rest is mine to dispense as I wish."
She began to understand the depth of the problem. "Then, if Garrett is in debt again, he must be very worried."
James nodded. "Yes."
"But . . . why do you let him incite the villagers to riot?" She tried to read an answer in his expression, but his gaze was abstract, his manner resigned.
"I cannot stop him. Short of locking him up, he will find some way to speak with them."
Carolly frowned, trying to follow James's plan. "So you eventually intend to rehire the women and children?"
"No."
"But—"
James pushed to his feet, coming forward to gaze earnestly down at her. "You must trust what I say, Carolly. The villagers will not riot. I am very nearly the sole employer here. They will not move against me. Plus, this summer's crop looks good. Things will turn around soon."
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