by Nikki Poppen
“Surely you don’t expect me to make this bed up?” Alasdair asked, laughter in his tone at being overcome by quantities of flowing white linen.
“Surely I do, sirrah,” Marianne scolded playfully, dragging her edge of the sheet to the far side of the massive bed. She smoothed the sheet onto the mattress and began to tuck it neatly under the mattress edge. However, she noted that Alasdair had stopped, his side of the linen hanging down to the floor. “You have to tuck it under,” Marianne explained.
“Ah, of course” Alasdair set about tucking, but she saw immediately that his tucking more closely resembled stuffing.
“Stop” Marianne put her hands on her hips and faced him squarely. “Have you ever actually made up a bed?”
“Not that I can recall, frankly.” Alasdair’s voice carried a tone of humility to it but his eyes were full of mocking mischief. He was trying not to laugh.
Marianne gave in to mirth at the sight of his boyish penitence. “Alasdair Braden, I declare, you are hopeless” She shook her head.
“Well, there is one thing I am good at in the bedroom,” he said with a seriousness that took Marianne entirely off guard. She wasn’t sure how to reply to that. Surely he didn’t mean to imply what she was thinking.
She decided to play it cool. “And what, precisely, is that?”
“Why, it’s pillow fights, of course. What did you think I meant?” His eyes widened in deliberate innocence. “Why, Marianne Addison, were you having impure thoughts? I have just the cure. We’ll beat them out of you” In one lightning movement Alasdair swooped up a pillow from the pile on the floor and fired it across the wide bed.
Marianne gave a little scream and nimbly dodged the feather bullet. She grabbed up her skirts and jumped onto the bed, making straight for the pile of pillows.
War ensued.
She grabbed a pillow and pummeled Alasdair with it while he tried, only somewhat successfully, to use his pillow as a shield.
“Dear Lord, you’re a virago!” Alasdair exclaimed as feathers flew in the chamber above his head.
Marianne was laughing too hard to see his next move until it was too late. Alasdair gave up his pillow shield and charged her like a bull, catching her about the waist and bearing her down on the mattress, thereby forcing her pillow to fly out of her grasp. Alasdair pinned her to the bed, both of them gasping for breath after their laughter and exertions.
“Cry mercy, minx.” Alasdair laid down his terms of surrender.
Marianne drew a deep breath, her lack of air having nothing to do any longer with the exertions of their pillow fight and everything to do with the proximity of Alasdair’s body to hers. She could see the amusement in his dark eyes and something else too-perhaps desire looked like that, like he would devour her if he could. There was something dangerous and tempting in that notion. For a second, she thought he would kiss her, and maybe he would have if Audrey hadn’t intervened in such a timely fashion.
“What is going on in here? I heard all the commotion downstairs . . “Audrey’s teasing tone faded at the sight of them. “Oh, excuse me,” she faltered uncharacteristically. She recovered the next moment, all efficient action.
“Alasdair, get up. Do you want your mother to catch you like that? She’s on her way up. You’re lucky I’m faster on the stairs than she is.”
“We were having a pillow fight,” Alasdair explained defensively. He released Marianne and climbed off the bed. “We were doing nothing wrong just having a little fun, Aud. Being caught having a pillow fight is hardly the same as being caught in flagrante delicto.” Alasdair gave an awkward cough. “Ah, hello Sarah, I suppose you heard the noise too” Sarah Stewart’s dark head appeared in the door frame behind Audrey’s auburn curls.
Marianne sat up. She could see Sarah’s eyes darting from her to Alasdair, her mind clearly working to piece together the episode. Marianne winced as Sarah came to the most obvious and correct conclusion: a pillow fight, certainly-the feathers were evidence of thatbut a pillow fight that had gone a bit too far and that might have gone even farther if they’d been allowed to follow the course of things.
Marianne was swamped with guilt. Perhaps she imagined a look of hurt sweep Sarah’s features briefly, or perhaps it really had. While she knew Alasdair’s feelings in regard to Sarah, she had not ascertained the true depth of Sarah’s feelings toward Alasdair. She’d thought Sarah looked upon Alasdair with the affection of a friend last night, but it was entirely possible she’d seen what she wanted to see, what she wanted to believe. Sarah had stood as her friend, welcoming her openly last night. Marianne owed her better than this.
Marianne slid off the bed and began repairing the damage to the rumpled sheet. Alasdair’s mother could be heard coming down the hall.
“What has happened here? We’re supposed to be getting the rooms ready, not destroying them,” she huffed. “It’s bad enough we have to do anything at all.” She’d been sorely put out by Audrey’s suggestion, that morning, that every hand available should pitch in to help ready Highborough for the impending royal visit.
She threw up her hands in disgust. “This is what happens when one asks a viscount to make a bed”
“It won’t take long to clean this up,” Marianne said, already pushing the loose feathers into a pile with her hands.
“We’ll leave you to it,” Audrey replied, shooting her a sharp look that Marianne could not dismiss. “All right, everyone back to your projects” She made a shooing motion with her hands and dispersed the little group, leaving Marianne and Alasdair alone.
“I’m sorry,” Alasdair began, once more the reserved Englishman who’d met her on the steps.
“Don’t be” Marianne smiled. “That is, unless you didn’t think it was fun?”
His reserve melted. “Well played, Marianne. It was great fun. It’s not every day a viscount gets to engage in all-out pillow warfare.”
“Nor is it every day a viscount learns to make a bed.” Marianne eyed the half-made bed with serious intent. “Back to work. I believe we left off with tucking. Not stuffing, mind you, tucking.”
They worked companionably after that, finishing the bed and laying linen towels out for the guest who would occupy that room during the house party.
Marianne fluffed the last pillow and stepped back to survey their handiwork.
“Does it pass inspection?” Alasdair asked, coming to her side.
“Yes, it does. You’ve done well for a beginner.”
“We make a good team, Marianne,” he said quietly, all teasing gone from his tone and his eyes.
“Thank you,” Marianne responded in kind.
“Marianne, may I kiss you? I find myself quite suddenly overwhelmed by your domestic talents.”
Marianne shook her head, and her hand pressed his. “No, it wouldn’t be right. There are things to be sorted out with Sarah first. I couldn’t kiss you knowing that our being together has caused her pain,” Marianne said softly, hoping Alasdair understood.
“Sarah and I talked before your arrival. She has no expectations of me. I’ve told her I will not be pursuing her hand. She assured me she was relieved to hear it.”
“What else was she to say? Was she to throw a tantrum? She knew there was nothing she could do to dissuade you from your decision. A lady could do nothing more than prove appreciative of your plans.” Marianne touched his arm lightly. “I’ll speak with her after lunch. It will make me feel better.”
In the drowsy hours of the afternoon, Sarah and Marianne strolled the parkland that led out to the Highborough summerhouse. The others had succumbed to the warm afternoon and were resting, except for Alasdair whom they’d left on the back terrace with a book.
“I am sorry about this morning,” Marianne began, idly picking a meadow wildflower that grew along the path.
Sarah pretended ignorance. “Sorry for what?”
“For the pillow fight,” Marianne said bluntly.
Sarah tried to dismiss her efforts. “No one should have t
o apologize for having a little fun”
“Don’t do that, Sarah” Marianne came to a stop in the path and faced her new friend. “Don’t pretend that you didn’t understand the scene fully. The pillow fight became something substantially more than its original intent.”
Sarah said nothing and they walked a ways in silence. When it became apparent that Sarah would not venture anything further in the conversation, Marianne said, “I know there was talk of you and Alasdair marrying.”
“There was only ever talk, nothing more” Sarah’s face sported a wistful smile. “He has informed me most politely that his intentions do not lie in that direction.”
“I am sorry. I feel as if it’s my fault” Marianne felt wretched. She and Alasdair had fallen in love. They could not help it, and in truth, she hadn’t known of the situation with Sarah until it had become too late to withdraw her affections.
Sarah put a gentle hand on Marianne’s arm. “My dear, it’s not your fault. You didn’t cause him not to want to marry me. He’s never wanted to marry me. You haven’t changed that. I’ve always known he’s been a rather reluctant but polite suitor.”
But Marianne sensed he was the only reluctant party. Sarah had not once mentioned her relief. “But you care for him,” Marianne boldly ventured.
Sarah gave a wide smile that took Marianne by surprise. “How could I not love Alasdair? Who doesn’t love him? He’s handsome and kind and full of life. He’s gallant and fun loving when he has the chance. He’s the sun around which we all revolve. The truth is, I’ve been worried for him the past few years. There’s a darker edge to him than there used to be, and I can’t make him happy. I can’t take that dark edge away. But you can. I can see it when he’s with you, and you’re all he talked about this past week.” Sarah gave her a beseeching look. “I think, for the first time in his life, Alasdair is discovering that he needs someone”
Marianne knew what Sarah meant about that darker edge. She’d seen it too, that day at the Tower and here at Highborough, for brief moments. “I’ve come to care for Alasdair during our short association in London but I can’t countenance the idea of my happiness being made by stealing another’s,” Marianne confessed.
Sarah squeezed Marianne’s hand affectionately. “Then you are as thoughtful as Alasdair told me” She leaned toward Marianne as they walked, as if they were conspirators. “He told me that you went into a duck pond in Hyde Park to retrieve a little boy’s boat because you couldn’t stand his tears. I thought someone who did that must be quite kindhearted.”
Marianne blushed. “I ruined my stockings but it was a small price to pay to see the little boy grin.”
“I’m glad Alasdair has found you, Marianne. Perhaps I am even a bit relieved. I’ve spent my whole adult life living under the onus of knowing that I was expected to marry him. It was not an unpleasant burden. He would never have been unkind to me and we would have made a companionable go of things. But the burden was in knowing that Alasdair was merely settling for me and that I could not truly make him happy, although he’d never admit it. We would have spent our lives trying to do the impossible for each other and never succeeding.” Sarah looked down at her hands. “May I tell you something? Many might consider it highly controversial. Perhaps you won’t.”
Marianne nodded, hardly able to imagine what Sarah Stewart would have to say that would qualify as scandalous.
Sarah’s voice dropped to a near whisper even though they were entirely alone out-of-doors. “I think the day of the aristocrat is fading. Alasdair thinks so too. I help my father with the ledgers and I see physical proof in those columns that estates can no longer maintain themselves living off the rents of their tenants. It’s not a passing consideration that will be outgrown. It’s the way of things now. What defines a gentleman’s lifestyle is changing. I think you’re someone who can help Alasdair find a way to bridge that gap. In fact, I think you’re exactly the person to do it.”
A thought crossed Marianne’s mind at Sarah’s resounding endorsement. Sarah had spent years thinking her adult life would come to a particular end and now, relieved or not, that expected outcome had been removed. “What about you? Have you given a thought to your future?”
A slow, coy smile spread across Sarah’s face, making her look more lively, quite pretty in fact, in marked contrast to the girl who had blended in with the draperies earlier that week. “Perhaps I might travel after all. I should love to see your San Francisco. Then again, I might find someone of my own to care for without worrying if it’s good for the estate” The way she said it, Marianne thought she might already have someone in mind. It occurred to Marianne that Sarah might have had someone in mind for quite some time but could not act on it out of loyalty to Alasdair and her father’s expectations.
“How will your father take the news?” Marianne ventured to ask. She already knew how Alasdair’s mother would react, how Alasdair’s mother was already reacting to her mere presence in the house.
“He’ll manage. It will be a harder adjustment for him. He and Alasdair’s mother have had their plans for quite some time. They’ve been quite keen to join the estates and the families.” Sarah shrugged. “They’ve both been alone for years and I understand how appealing it would be to create a whole family of sorts again, to feel part of something. I think they thought they’d have that if Alasdair and I married-their very own country dynasty”
“If that’s so, maybe they should marry each other,” Marianne said.
Sarah giggled. “Now, there’s an idea.”
The mood at the table that evening was boisterous, the good cheer nearly palpable as they all sat down at the table. Everyone had worked hard the past few days, and the prince would arrive tomorrow along with the other guests. The good cheer had a punchy quality to it, no doubt from everyone’s weariness, but Highborough was ready.
Linens were pressed; beds with their luxury sheeting were made up; rooms smelled fresh and clean. Carpets had been rolled out in public rooms and draperies beaten dust free. For Marianne’s part, her good humor stemmed from the walk with Sarah. She had not realized how heavily her concern over Sarah’s reaction had weighed on her. It had been cathartic to hear Sarah’s reassurances and to know that she was not merely stepping aside, but that she was relieved to get on with her life in a happier venue.
After dinner, the men did not sit at the table for port and the group did not seem inclined to linger over the tea trolley, their efforts over the past several days catching up to them. Marianne noticed that all Audrey had to do was stifle a small yawn behind her hand and everyone quickly rose and said their good nights before eagerly seeking their chambers.
“Might I have a word with you before you go up?” Alasdair asked quietly at her side as the others filed past them.
The soft, private quality of his voice sent a delicious thrill down her spine. “Of course”
Marianne’s mother kissed her cheek on her way up. “Don’t be long, darling. It will be an early day tomorrow.”
When the last of the group had gone upstairs, Alasdair drew her outside to the terrace where they’d walked the first night. He stood next to her, his elbows resting on the carved-stone balustrade, looking out over the gardens with their gaslights. “Do you like it here, Marianne?”
“Your home is astonishing. It’s like a palace,” Marianne said truthfully. “But, like a palace, it’s not really a place for living. It’s a place for showing.”
Alasdair made a good-humored grimace. “Ouch, that’s quite a comment. I don’t think Highborough has ever endured such a blistering set down. But I won’t say you’re wrong.” He reached for her hand, a gesture he’d done so often since they’d met that Marianne marveled it hadn’t become commonplace in its effect on her. But, each time, she still thrilled to it, gloves and all.
Alasdair looked down at her gloved hand in his. “Highborough is like your hand, gloved and displayed for all to see but not to touch, not really. For once, I’d like to hold your hand, your r
eal hand, and all these conventions be hanged”
“I think that can be arranged” Marianne slipped her hand from his and began to peel off her long gloves. “What about Highborough, Alasdair? Can it take off its gloves? Metaphorically speaking of course”
A wistful look crossed his features. “I think that’s up to you. If anyone can make Highborough less of a mausoleum it would be you,” he said, reaching for her bared hand and tracing a delicate circle in the center of her palm. Marianne felt herself give a silly tremble. It seemed ridiculous to react so thoroughly to a simple touch of a finger. But it wasn’t just any finger-it was Alasdair’s-and his touch alone had affected her this way since the beginning of their time together.
“I’m not certain I understand,” Marianne replied honestly. It was hard to understand anything when the whole of her body and mind were intent on what Alasdair was doing to her hand.
Alasdair flashed her a boyish grin. “Marianne, there’s something I want to ask you.”
What an ominous phrase. Marianne’s stomach flipped and she fought the urge to sit down. Oh Lord, she thought. This is it.
GGDo you know why a gentleman invites a lady to his country home? To see the `old pile,’ as it were?”
The question caught her entirely off guard. “No, I am afraid not, unless it’s to help him clean house or for pillow fights.”
Alasdair gave a small shake of his head, and Marianne immediately regretted her attempt at levity. With a serious gesture, he drew a small, square box out of his inner coat pocket. “A gentleman invites a lady to his family seat to meet the family, the neighbors, to see the house, to see if she could imagine being mistress of such a place. In short, Marianne, the invitation is a prelude to a marriage proposal” His fingers flicked open the lid of the small velvet box. “I am asking you to marry me, Marianne, to be my countess”
Marianne stared at the ring, utterly speechless.
“I am honored, truly I am,” Marianne managed once she’d found her voice. She should have been better prepared than this. Since the day in the boat at Regent’s Park she’d known there was a strong likelihood of facing his proposal. She should have been practicing what she’d say, what she’d do.