"No, Aunt Delia, I wouldn't." Blake stood up and followed his aunt as far as the bottom of the grand staircase, then fondly patted her cheek. "But she doesn't know that."
"Her maid is waiting in the front hall."
Blake nodded. "Aunt Delia?"
"Yes, dear?"
"Would you be sure to tell Miss Fairfax that cook is holding dinner for her? This household will not eat until she appears for dinner." He made the announcement loud enough for Cristina to hear.
He didn't have to wait long before the sound of her voice drifted down from upstairs. "Lady Wethering, you may tell Lord Lawrence that I will be more than happy to dine with the rest of his household as long as he dines elsewhere."
"Now, dear..." Aunt Delia's words were lost as Perryman, the butler, ushered Leah into Blake's study.
Mackie followed close on their heels. "Thank goodness you've come. I simply don't know how to handle the young miss." Mackie shrugged her shoulders in an eloquent gesture.
"Mrs. MacKenzie, I forbid you to take the Miss Fairfax's supper to her," Blake interrupted loudly. "If she wants to eat, she can come downstairs and eat with me."
"But Master Blake ..." Mackie stared at her employer and nodded her head in the direction of his study.
"Mackie." Blake stressed the housekeeper's pet name to let her know he meant business. He couldn't allow his softhearted housekeeper to circumvent his order. If Cristina continued to act like a naughty child, he would treat her as such.
He turned to Leah. "You must be from Fairhall."
"Yes. Your Lordship sent for me. I'm Leah and I brought some of my young lady's clothes," Leah explained, not quite sure how far into the bottle his lordship was.
"Your young lady?" Blake muttered suggestively. "She may be a lady, but right now she's not acting like one. Have you any idea the amount of trouble that young woman has caused me?"
Leah grasped the situation immediately. There was a power struggle going on in this house and both of the participants were determined to win. "I have a good idea, Your Lordship. You see, I've known Miss Fairfax from the day she was born and I know she can be a handful. She's given me many a gray hair in my head from worryin'," Leah told him, "but she can also be the sweetest, most lovin' girl in the world."
Blake leaned closer to Leah. "I haven't had the privilege of seeing much of her nicer side. Apparently we bring out the worst in each other."
If he hadn't seemed so earnest, Leah was sure she would have burst out laughing.
"Why do you suppose that is?" he asked.
Leah turned to Blake and flashed him one of her rare smiles. "Well, if I were to really think about it, I would think it might be because you tend to be a wee bit overbearin'." Then seeing his shocked expression, she hastened to add, "Don't get me wrong. I think that's a fine quality in a man. A man should rule his household, but Miss Fairfax hasn't been around many men and she don't understand that. She's real sensitive, with a firm sense of right and wrong and it just goes against her grain for someone to try to force her to do somethin'. She reads a lot of books and she likes to make her own decisions. Of course, it's hard for a young lady in her position to accept that she's not going to be allowed to think for herself once she's introduced into society. It was all right for her to have all those ideas about emancipation when she was younger, but now that she's of marriageable age, she's got to learn to put those things aside. And the man who gets Miss Cristina must handle her with a gentle hand. She has a terrible temper."
Blake smiled, showing one tiny dimple. He was well aware of Miss Fairfax's temper, having been on the receiving end of it once or twice. So she couldn't stand to be dominated. That was the problem. What had happened to his nimble brain? What had happened to his keen perception about people? He should have realized it before. That was one of things that had attracted him to her to begin with; the fact that she was no milksop miss. She was different and because she was different, she resented his having control over her. Blake could understand that. He often felt the same way about things beyond his control. Pleased with his revelation, Blake was prepared to be magnanimous. He glanced up at Mackie. "Wait, Mackie."
"Yes?"
"Ask my aunt to inform Miss Fairfax she can dine alone in her room if she wishes. For tonight."
Leah successfully hid her smile. "I think that's very generous of Your Lordship," she told him, and knowing Cristina's temper, very wise of him as well.
Blake blossomed under her praise. He seemed to have made everyone around him angry lately, and he was very pleased to have someone agree with him for a change.
"Come, Leah, we'll talk over dinner." He took Cristina's maid by the arm and led her into the dining room and pulled out the chair beside his at the long, mahogany dining table.
Leah was surprised by his breach of etiquette. She was a servant and servants didn't sit at the same table as their employers. She blushed. "Your Lordship, I can't sit with you."
"Why not? I like you. I want you to keep me company. I live in a world of formality. I work in a branch of the government chockful of rules and regulations and etiquette, so I'm not much on formality at home. I prefer to relax a bit and relax the rules governing the household. You haven't eaten this evening, have you?"
Leah shook her head.
"Then my aunt and I would be very pleased to have you join us for dinner." He flashed her a smile and the dimple in his cheek gave him a boyish appearance. "Besides, I hate sitting at one end of the table while my aunt sits at the other end. And as my aunt is rather hard of hearing, the seating arrangement makes for rather difficult conversation. But Perryman and Mackie insist that this formality preserves the order of the household, that my eating in the kitchen would make my employees uncomfortable. So ..."
"I'm truly honored by your generous offer, Your Lordship. I've been a servant all my life and not one of my employers has ever asked me to sit down and eat with him, but it's like your housekeeper said--some rules about the household shouldn't be broken. Besides"--she leaned closer to him--"I'm afraid I'd be too uncomfortable havin' fellow staff members waitin' on me. I know you'll understand if I say that like you, I prefer the kitchen."
Blake nodded and graciously allowed Leah to make her exit without further embarrassment. He sighed. Despite his initial reluctance to invite her to stay at Lawrence House and chaperon Cristina, Blake discovered he enjoyed Aunt Delia's company. Enjoyed having her in the house, and she enjoyed being there. But meal times were awkward with the two of them sitting at opposite ends of the table. She couldn't hear and because neither one of them wanted to shout across the vast expanse of the mahogany dining table, they were destined to eat in lonely silence once again.
The big house was quiet except for the sounds of the two women who sat in the kitchen. The master of the house had long since retired to his room to bathe and to nurse his wounds with a full bottle of brandy and Cristina hadn't made a sound in hours. It was the perfect time for the two women to get acquainted--to share a pot of strong, sweet tea and a bit of household gossip.
"I'm not one to gossip about what goes on in the family to strangers, mind you, but seeing as how you're going to be here a while and seeing as how you're part of Miss Cristina's household, I think you ought to know some of our family history, so to speak," Mackie stated firmly, lest Leah think she indulged in common gossip.
"Please, Mistress MacKenzie, you don't need to give me any explanations. I've been in service to the gentry since I was thirteen years old and none of their goin's on surprises me at this stage of my life." Leah didn't want the kindly woman to think she regularly indulged in common gossip.
"I insist." Mackie silenced any further token protests and began to explain. It was so nice to have someone to talk to. Someone who had not been involved with the family and who knew nothing of the life Lord and Lady Lawrence had lived before her fatal accident. Mackie sensed the other woman's
concern for Lord Lawrence and was glad of it. It was wonderful to be able to share her worries with another woman. Master Blake had been a source of concern for a very long time and Mackie felt she needed a fresh opinion to help her help him. And it was important to Mackie that Leah understand about him because she hadn't met him at his best. She wanted Leah to understand that Master Blake didn't make a habit of overindulging in brandy. He wasn't the worse for drink very often and when he was there was always a reason. And usually that reason had something to do with the memories of his late wife. A man needed a woman of his own. And that was something Master Blake had never had. Mackie wasn't blind. She knew Blake had sexual appetites just like any other man and those appetites didn't go away now that he was widowed. Nor had they gone away just because he had been unfortunate enough or unwise enough to marry a woman who would never be faithful to him. As far as she knew, Master Blake had never turned to his wife for companionship or solace. He sought his pleasure elsewhere. But he had always been very discreet. He rarely returned to Lawrence House after a night with a woman, preferring to stay at his club until the effects of the night wore off. He didn't think his employees should see him in a drunken state and he never brought a woman into his home. It was his private place. His sanctuary.
But now there was Miss Fairfax, and she was different. She was a lady and anyone with half an eye could see that Master Blake was crazy about her. He had been short-tempered and eaten up with jealousy whenever anyone dared to look at her. And he had broken his cardinal rules. He had gotten drunk in front of the staff and he had brought a woman into his home. Mackie was as moral as they come, but she was no fool. She knew something was going on. Master Blake's valet, Hudson, had shown her the bloodstained neckcloth and she had been the one to find the remains of the torn nightgown Miss Fairfax had stuffed between her mattress--a nightgown torn from behind, which bore the same reddish-brown stains as Master Blake's neckcloth.
There was a powerful attraction at work here and everyone in the house was aware of it except the two people involved.
Mackie needed advice. She needed guidance. She needed help dealing with Master Blake and the young miss, and so she decided to share everything she knew about Blake Ashford with Leah.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
--WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE 1564-1616
*Chapter Eleven*
"Feeling better?" Mackie cheerfully bustled into the master bedroom, and finding the occupant awake at last, placed her tray near the bed and hurried to open the drapes.
"No!" came the muffled shout. Too late, as the painful sunlight penetrated his eyelids, causing him to whiten beneath his tan. He impatiently raked his long lean fingers through his thick, black hair and muttered through tightly clenched teeth for Mackie to close the drapes.
"I've brought your breakfast."
The aroma assailed his sensitive nostrils and his queasy stomach threatened to turn over in revolt. "Take it away and leave me alone. Where is Hudson?"
"You gave him the day off last night. In fact, you gave everyone the day off. I thought I should check on you." She placed a plump hand against his forehead. "You feel positively clammy and you look a bit greenish despite that nasty black eye."
Blake slapped her hand away, irritably attempting to bury his aching head beneath the comfortable dark covers. "I don't need your cosseting, Mackie, and I certainly don't need that!"
He pointed a disparaging hand at the offending breakfast tray.
"But Master Blake, a man needs a nourishing breakfast to start the morning." Mackie removed the cover from the tray and the odor of bacon and kidneys filled the room.
Blake clamped a hand over his mouth and rolled to his stomach in a vain effort to escape from the smell. "Leave the juice and the coffee, then get out." He mumbled between clenched teeth.
She set a small glass of orange juice and a small pot of coffee and a cup and saucer on the bedside table. "But..."
"Leave, Mackie ..." He stopped in mid-sentence to gain control of his roiling insides. "Now, please, and take that horrible smell with you."
"I still think you need a hearty breakfast," Mackie insisted.
Blake turned his head and pinned his housekeeper with a baleful glare. "I don't need anything except peace and quiet and a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep. Go on, now, and take that tray." Blake was trying to be patient with Mackie but it was next to impossible when he felt as if the Ascot races were being run right through the center of his head and that smell... if he survived this episode, he never wanted to see, smell, or taste another kidney as long as he lived.
"Are you sure you're all right?" Mackie sounded genuinely concerned. "You still look a little peaked."
"I'm fine. Now, go." He had reached the end of his patience and it was all Blake could do not to roar, at his housekeeper. Only experience with the sort of damage shouting could do to his pickled brain kept Blake's tone of voice low and even.
Mackie hovered near the door. "I'll go if you're sure you're all right."
Blake waved a hand to shoo her out the door and Mackie took the offending tray and left the room seconds before Blake's quivering insides rebelled at the abuse they had taken.
Mackie stood outside the bedroom door listening as the violent retching began. She was torn between shame for deliberately causing Blake discomfort and pride at the subtle punishment she had inflicted on the unsuspecting man. She smiled to herself and whistled as she descended the stairs. Master Blake would think twice about staying up to all hours and drinking like that again.
She paused at the foot of the stairs long enough to wonder how Leah was managing Miss Cristina, then whistled her way into the kitchen where she fed the old tomcat his customary breakfast of bacon and kidney.
"I don't understand how you can be so disloyal to me. I don't understand how you can like him or how you can take his side when you know he's keeping me a prisoner in this house." Cristina sat on the side of the massive bed, looking down at her lap and toying a loose thread on the pleats of her nightgown.
Leah's face was impassive as she bore the brunt of her young mistress's anger. "I'm not bein' disloyal to you or takin' his side against you, missy, but I don't agree that he's keepin' you here with him just for spite. I think he has other reasons. I think he's doin' what he thinks is best for you. After all, your mother did run off and leave you without a guardian or a chaperon. What's got you so upset? Are you sure you told me everythin'?" Leah asked, knowing full well that Cristina had left something out.
"Of course I told you everything," Cristina replied softly, pulling at the string, avoiding Leah's knowing gaze. "What else is there to tell except that Lord Lawrence is keeping me here against my will? I've asked to leave and he refuses. I don't think that's what's best for me. And I think that whether you know it or not, you're taking his side and you're being disloyal to me in doing so."
"Well, I don't think I'm bein' disloyal to you at all and you can forget using that haughty tone of voice with me, 'cause it won't do you a bit of good. It might fool other folks, but it don't fool me. I may be a servant, but I happen to know how much my opinion means to you."
"It doesn't mean anything this time. I can't believe you think he's a good man when he's cruel and arrogant and overbearing. Why, he--" Her voice trailed off.
"He what?" Leah prompted, stiffening in her chair, preparing herself for Cristina's revelation.
"He took advantage of me. He kissed me against my will."
Leah almost smiled. "Are you sure it was against your will?"
"Of course, I'm sure," Cristina answered, continuing to pull at the loose thread on her nightgown. "Why do you persist in defending him?" Frustrated, she gave the thread a vicious yank and unraveled three delicately stitched pleats.
"Because nobody has ever taken advantage of you unless you allo
wed it," Leah told her. "Nobody except your mother, and Lord Lawrence didn't have anythin' to do with that sorry trick."
"How do you know he didn't?"
"He ain't that kind of man."
"How do you know what kind of man he is? You only just met him. You only arrived last night."
"Maybe so," Leah agreed. "But I've lived a long life and I've worked for the gentry a long time and last night was the first time a gentleman ever invited me to dine with him."
"You used to have breakfast with my father all the time," Cristina reminded her.
"In the kitchen," Leah pointed out. "I always ate breakfast with your father in the kitchen. Lord Lawrence is the only gentleman I've ever known who invited me to sit down beside him at the table in the dinin' room. And that tells me a lot about the kind of man he is," Leah concluded.
"It tells me you've been taken in by his charm just like everyone else in this house," Cristina replied.
"Includin' yourself?"
Cristina didn't answer.
"You don't have to worry about it," Leah told her. "He is a charmin' man. A nice man. And I just know he wouldn't be taken in by a schemin' woman like your mother."
Cristina abandoned her haughty pretense, got up from the bed, and knelt before Leah's chair, placing her head in the older woman's lap as she had done when she was a child. "Leah, the night at Marlborough House was awful. I didn't know what to do except try to escape, and then Lord Lawrence showed up. He helped me, and yet I woke up in his bed. I'm so confused. A part of me wants to believe he's the kind of man you believe him to be. But another part of me is afraid. What if I'm wrong about him? What if I believe in him and find out he has the same morals as my mother or her friends and lovers?"
"Did anything happen while you were in Lord Lawrence's bed?" Leah asked.
"He says it didn't. He says all he did was rescue me, that I was too sotted for anything else."
Leah raised an eyebrow at that.
Cristina blushed. "I do remember drinking a bottle of wine."
"On top of the laudanum I gave you?"
Cristina nodded.
"Lord Lawrence was right. You were sotted and probably sleeping like a baby. But that wouldn't have stopped any of your mother's friends from taking advantage of you. The fact that Lord Lawrence didn't is proof of his character. It's all over now," Leah soothed. "The best thing you can do is to forget about what happened at Marlborough House. You're safe here, away from Claude and your mother now, and a man like Lord Lawrence ain't gonna let anythin' bad happen to you from now on."
"I'm not so sure," Cristina murmured as she leaned back on her knees so she could look Leah in the eyes.
"Why not?" Leah demanded.
Whisper Always Page 11