The Duchess
Page 34
“I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you were saying,” she said to Harry.
He reached across the tea table to take her hand. “If you’re waiting for Trevelyan to come to you, he won’t. He’s not a man who can be owned.”
“But he said that he loved me,” Claire cried in despair.
Harry leaned away from her and she was sure she had offended him deeply. “Did he?” Harry asked softly. “I don’t remember hearing that he’s done that before.”
Claire looked away and tried to blink away her tears. At one time the library had been her prime interest in life, but now all she could think about was Trevelyan. If he did love her, why didn’t he come for her? How could he allow her to spend time with another man? Was he with Nyssa? Had he already replaced her with another woman?
Harry very kindly arranged for the two of them to have a private supper in the library, but Claire couldn’t eat much. She picked at her food, pushing it around on her plate. Harry made a few attempts at conversation but became silent after he met with Claire’s monosyllabic replies.
After supper Claire was so tired that she could hardly drag herself up to her bedroom and undress herself. Yet, when she was in bed, she couldn’t sleep. She lay still and looked at the underside of the canopy.
When the portrait on the wall moved, she leaped out of the bed and ran to it. “Vellie!” she said, hope in her voice. He had come for her.
But it wasn’t Trevelyan at the door but her sister, Brat. Claire turned away and listlessly went back to bed.
“You shouldn’t be up,” Claire said, but more from habit than because she meant it.
To Claire’s consternation, Brat climbed in bed with her and hugged her sister tightly.
“What’s going on?” Brat whispered. “I don’t understand anything.”
Claire hadn’t thought her little sister was capable of being a child. Sarah Ann seemed to have been born old and knowledgeable. Yet this was a child who was hugging her now.
“I’m going to marry Harry,” Claire said. She wasn’t going to lie to the child.
“But you love Trevelyan and he loves you.”
Claire took a deep breath. “Sometimes there’s more to marriage than just love. Sometimes other things have to be considered.”
“You mean me, don’t you? You’re going to marry Harry so you can get the money and keep me from being poor.”
“What an absurd idea. I’m not doing any such thing. Harry is a lovely man. I agreed to marry him because I loved him, not for money. I’m sure Harry and I will have a very nice life together. I shall do something with this place and the other ones Harry owns. I’ll bring them into the nineteenth century. We’ll put bathrooms all over this monster house. You’ll like that, won’t you? You’ll like living here, won’t you? You said that you loved this house and all the people in it.”
Sarah Ann took a deep breath. “I love you too. And I love Trevelyan and I love Nyssa.” And I love Harry, she thought, but she didn’t say that. Since Harry had returned he looked to be as sad as Claire. Sarah Ann knew the two of them were forcing themselves to marry. But why? That was what she didn’t understand.
“When did this happen? I thought you hated Nyssa. She can say some cruel things at times.”
“She doesn’t mean them. She’s…I don’t know, I think I love her because she’s happy. I don’t know many happy people.”
“I’m happy,” Claire said.
“No, you’re not. You aren’t happy and Trevelyan isn’t happy, Harry is unhappy and everybody’s sad. I don’t like it here anymore. I want to go home to New York.”
Claire stroked her sister’s hair. “We don’t have a home in New York anymore,” she said softly. “We don’t have Father’s yacht or the house in the country either. All we have is millions of dollars that we can’t touch unless I get married. And I must marry a man who’ll help me take care of the money.”
“I don’t think I like money. I think you should marry Trevelyan.”
Claire managed to smile. “And go away and live in a hut somewhere? Should I take you with me? Would you like living on coconuts and never having pretty clothes to wear?”
“Is Trevelyan very poor?”
“I don’t know,” Claire said with some bitterness. “He has never told me anything about himself. I know practically nothing about him.”
“But you know all there is to know about Harry, don’t you?”
Claire sighed. “I’m afraid that I do. I don’t think Harry is a very complicated man.”
“I don’t understand anything,” Brat said. “I used to think that I understood everything, but I don’t anymore.”
“I think it’s called growing up. Now, why don’t you close your eyes and sleep a little?”
Sarah Ann, snuggled close to her sister, did close her eyes, but she didn’t sleep, nor did Claire.
Chapter Twenty-three
Wear the emeralds,” Brat said as she rummaged through Claire’s jewel box.
Claire gave her sister a weak smile. Claire was trying her best to conduct herself normally and to put on a face of happiness for her sister, but she wasn’t very good at acting. “The emeralds would be lovely.” Claire had allowed Sarah Ann to choose her clothes for dinner and Brat had chosen Claire’s most lavish lace ballgown. Claire knew she was going to look a bit ridiculous at dinner, but she didn’t care. For the two days since she’d seen Trevelyan, she didn’t seem to care about anything. She walked about the estate with Harry, spent all her time with him, and tried to tell herself that she had made the right decision to marry Harry. But every time a branch twitched or someone walked into a room, Claire jumped.
Trevelyan’s probably writing and doesn’t realize I’m not there, she thought with a great deal of bitterness. So much for his “love” of me.
She looked in the mirror of her dressing table and smiled at her sister. Poor Brat, she thought. For the last few days Claire’s depression had upset her greatly. Claire had never before realized how important she was to her little sister. But then, with a father who was usually away killing animals or sailing on his yacht and a mother who did little but plan one party after another, Claire was all the family Brat had.
“Nyssa was singing this morning,” Brat said.
Claire’s hands stopped on the heavy emerald necklace at her throat. “When did you see Nyssa?” she whispered.
“All the time. I don’t think she sleeps. She says she doesn’t want to miss anything and sleeping is like a little death.”
Claire arranged the necklace. There was a chain of emeralds set in gold, each emerald about the size of a thumbnail. Hanging from the chain was a fat tear-drop-shaped emerald about an inch and a half long. The large emerald was called the Moment of Truth and was famous for bringing good luck to people. The necklace was the first thing her mother had bought when she had received her money from her father-in-law. Claire was sure the necklace would have to be sold soon after her marriage and the money used for a new lead roof for Bramley. Emeralds into lead.
“Was Nyssa alone?” Claire asked, trying to act as though she didn’t care.
Brat was quiet for a moment. “Trevelyan is always with her.”
“He isn’t writing?”
“No. I haven’t seen him write a word since…since the night Nyssa danced. Since the night Harry came back.”
Claire nodded and tried to look busy as she straightened her jewelry box. Trevelyan had not taken long to go from loving Claire to being in love with his beautiful little Pearl of the Moon.
Claire stood up and turned to her sister. “How do I look?”
Brat smiled. “Beautiful. I think you’re much prettier than Nyssa.”
Claire laughed at that and held out her arms to her sister. “What a lovely liar you are. Now go and find Cammy or someone. I must see Harry.”
“I bet Vellie would like to see you in that dress. And your hair looks so nice. Has he seen your emeralds? Maybe he’d like to draw them and put them in his books
. Maybe you should show him—”
“No” was all Claire could say, but she kissed Brat on the forehead and slowly walked out of the room.
Harry was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. Since he’d returned from Edinburgh two days ago, it was as though he was afraid to allow her out of his sight. As far as she could tell he wasn’t jealous of the time she’d spent with Trevelyan, and she often felt as though he’d rather be outside with her father and the other men, but still he stayed with her. Claire thought that if she had been feeling less miserable, she would have asked some questions. But as it was, she didn’t feel much like bothering about anything in the world.
“You look beautiful,” Harry said softly, looking her up and down.
Claire smiled a bit and thought that Harry was a bit too short, a bit too fair, that his eyes were too light, his hair wasn’t the right length, and why didn’t he grow a mustache? In other words, why wasn’t he Trevelyan?
Harry held out his arm for her. “I want to show you something,” he said, then led her back through the house, past the gold drawing room, past the dining room. He led her to the first-floor ballroom, a room that Claire had seen only once before. She had been appalled at the condition of the room, which had obviously been unused for years. The chairs placed along the walls were dirty and torn. There were cobwebs hanging from the ceiling.
But now, in the early evening, she couldn’t see the dirt or the worn chairs, for the room was lit by hundreds of candles and everything glowed golden. In the corner of the room sat six men with violins.
As Harry led her into the room, he nodded to the men and they began to play a waltz. They weren’t a very good orchestra, in fact they were actually rather awful, which made Claire smile at Harry as he opened his arms to her to lead her in a dance.
As one of the men hit a particularly discordant note, Claire smiled, a genuine smile, the first in days, and Harry leaned forward and softly kissed her cheek. “They were the best I could do on short notice.”
Harry was a good dancer, and he whirled her about the ballroom until she was breathless.
“I will try to be a good husband to you,” Harry said as he waltzed her by the windows.
Claire could hear another man saying that he would no doubt be the worst husband on earth.
Harry whirled her round and round until Claire was nearly dizzy, but she was smiling and Harry was laughing.
It was nearly sundown and the setting sun was glistening on the windows of the ballroom when Claire looked up from Harry’s arms to see Trevelyan standing in the doorway. At once her heart leaped with joy. He had come for her!
But she took one look at his face and knew that the emotion on it wasn’t jealousy at seeing her with another man, nor did he look as though he planned to demand that she leave with him, no matter what her protests. She knew what she did not see on his face, but she couldn’t read what was there.
“Come with me,” Trevelyan said.
“I don’t think I can,” Claire answered, moving back toward Harry. She didn’t like the way he was speaking to her.
Trevelyan gave Harry a look that made Harry push Claire toward Trevelyan. “Go with him.”
“Why do people feel that they must obey him?” she demanded of Harry. She was hurt. She hadn’t seen Trevelyan since their argument in the garden. He had made no attempt to see her; he’d known that she was hourly in the company of another man, yet he hadn’t seemed to care.
Trevelyan was across the ballroom in two strides and he clasped her upper arm.
“You’re hurting me. I don’t want to go with you.”
“Nyssa wants you,” he said.
At that Claire dug in her heels and tried to keep from being pulled. “You ignore me for days, even after what we did, and now you want me to go with you because of your little harlot? I will not go with you.”
Trevelyan picked Claire up and carried her from the room. Claire looked back at Harry, as though for help, but Harry remained where he was. Claire crossed her arms over her chest.
“If you think you can use these tactics on me and get me to change my mind, they won’t work. I’m going to marry Harry and give my family a home. I’m not leaving with you no matter what you say or do to me. If you carry me away from here, I’ll find a way to return. You can’t—”
“Shut up,” he said.
“You cannot talk to me like—”
He stopped walking and looked down at her. He turned the full force of his dark eyes on her, and, involuntarily, Claire’s hands went to her throat. “What is it?” she whispered. “What has happened?”
He didn’t answer, but started walking again.
Claire began to become alarmed. His look had told her there was something more wrong than a lovers’ quarrel. She turned her head and looked at the garden. On a little hill not far away, in what was the very prettiest part of the garden, was a low, three-sided shelter draped in Nyssa’s bright colored scarves. Inside were many pillows, and Nyssa was lounging on them, wearing her embroidered red robe.
Claire would have said something to Trevelyan, but beside the shelter were two tall men, both with very dark skin, both wearing only loincloths. The men’s bodies were painted with blue stripes and there were feathers in their long hair. One of the men was playing a flute. He was playing that awful tune that Trevelyan had said was a celebration of death.
“What is she doing?” Claire asked. “Who are those men?”
If Claire’s body had not been against Trevelyan’s she would not have known that he reacted to her question, for his face didn’t change. His expression was still hard and unreadable, but she could feel an odd little catch in his chest.
“Nyssa is about to die,” he said softly.
Claire wasn’t sure she heard him correctly. She twisted in his arms. “She’s what?”
“Nyssa is about to die. It is her time.”
Claire could only blink at him in shock. It was a moment before she understood what he was saying. Did he mean that her five years as priestess of the Peshan religion were up and now she was to die? “Let me down,” she said. “I can run faster than you can walk. We’ll be able to stop them.”
Trevelyan looked ahead at Nyssa as he held on to Claire. “We will not stop it.”
Again it took Claire some time to understand him. She stiffened in his arms. “Not stop it? Are you mad? This is Scotland, not one of your heathen countries.”
He stopped walking and glared down at her. “You are not to tell Nyssa that you do not believe her religion to be the true one. She has asked you to come because she cares for you. She wants to say good-bye to you.”
Claire thought perhaps she was asleep and dreaming. Or had Trevelyan gone mad? “This is ridiculous. Put me down!”
They were close enough to Nyssa that Trevelyan could see her face now. Nyssa nodded at him, so he set Claire to the ground.
Claire wanted to run to Nyssa, but she didn’t. She smoothed her gown, straightened the emeralds at her throat, put her shoulders back, and walked forward. She smiled down at Nyssa. “What is this I hear about death?” she asked, smiling. “It’s a lovely day and tomorrow promises to be even lovelier.”
Nyssa smiled up at her. “I wanted to say farewell.”
“Good-bye? How absurd. Tomorrow, why don’t we go to London? I can get Harry to take us. Have you met Harry?”
Nyssa’s laugh rang out. “There will be no more tomorrow for me.”
Claire looked at the two men flanking the enclosure. They were formidable-looking creatures. Claire sat down on a pillow and leaned toward Nyssa and began to whisper. “Scotland is a free country. You’re safe here, but if you don’t feel safe from those two, I’ll see that you get to America. I’ll take care of you as long as I live.”
Nyssa, smiling, bent forward and kissed Claire’s cheek. “You have been kind to me. I will say a word in your favor when I get to the land past death. I will be in great favor there, you know. I will remain beautiful forever.”
“No,” Nyssa said. “I mean to die here. This is a beautiful spot, is it not?”
Claire looked at Nyssa, then at the two men by the enclosure, then at Trevelyan who was a mere two feet away. “Would you please reason with her?”
Trevelyan, with great sadness in his eyes, looked at Nyssa and shook his head.
It was then that Claire began to think that this death threat of Nyssa’s was real. She clutched Nyssa’s hand tightly. “Nyssa, listen to me. You aren’t in Pesha now. This is a different land and there are laws here. We can call the authorities and these men can be put away. They can be stopped from threatening you.”
“But no one is threatening me,” Nyssa said softly, still smiling. “This is my choice. I made it long ago.”
“Yes, yes,” Claire said impatiently. “But that was when you were in another country. Now you’re in Scotland and—”
“It is all the same, wherever I am. I am still the Pearl of the Moon, and I swore that I would die at the end of five years.”
Claire began to feel hot. She took Nyssa’s other hand. “But you’re not in Pesha now. You no longer have to abide by their hideous, cruel laws. You’re free now to—”
Nyssa removed her hand from Claire’s and stroked her cheek. “You do not know what my country is like. I laughed when Frank told me that you thought these Scots crofters were poor. You do not know what poverty is like. Not real poverty. You have never seen anyone starve to death.”
“Of course not, and in America you’d never have to see such poverty again.”
Nyssa put her fingers to Claire’s lips. “I grew up in such poverty. My mother bore two children and died when she was seventeen. I have already lived two years longer than she did.”
“In America the life span is—” Claire stopped at a look from Trevelyan as he knelt by Nyssa’s head.