I am certain that Laurence had felt Edgar’s popularity more than most. He had spent years trying to impress our parents but was unable to measure up to his older brother. Though this may have affected him, he was born affected also. He had never been sharing and would always find ways to upset the peace.
I walked a little more soberly with Mariette toward the front door. My brother’s arrival had taken over the sweetness that had just occurred between us, that until then I had only imagined in dreams. She took my hand, squeezed it briefly, then let it go before we were seen. We looked a little disheveled: her hair, though hastily tied back, had several loose strands; her cheeks were flushed from our sojourn; and her linen riding shirt was badly crumpled. I imagined I appeared much the same. I hoped the redness in both our faces would be attributed to the wind against our journey homeward.
“Who is here?” she asked.
“My brother.”
She looked at the house for a few moments and back at me. Her expression said nothing, though I knew she carried much information about him also.
“Edgar has told me about him. He is a little different from you, non? A little more concerned about himself?”
“Yes.” She had summed him up well thanks to Edgar. Edgar and Laurence had had some terrible disagreements over the years. Laurence had also gone to war but had only seen a portion of battle before it was over. In some way I wondered if he felt a kind of victory that he had survived and not Edgar. I also wondered if our mother would have been just as upset if it were Edgar returned and not Laurence. A consideration that I think would have been in Laurence’s mind also.
“Don’t let him worry you, Mariette. He can be difficult, and you have my permission to leave the room if you do not feel comfortable.”
She smiled. “Thank you, but I do not need someone’s permission to leave a room.”
Mother and Laurence were in the drawing room when we walked in. Mother wore an expression that I couldn’t read, and she could do that well when required. But they weren’t the only ones there. Laurence had brought two male friends with him and a girl as well. The men were dapper in dinner suits, and the girl dressed excessively shimmery for daylight hours. From the smell of alcohol about them, I suspected they had been celebrating long before their arrival.
Laurence’s eyes were quick to discover Mariette, and I noticed that they stayed there purposefully, too long in fact, so I felt a pang of regret bringing her to meet him, and with such an audience.
“This must be Mariette,” said Laurence, and he strode assuredly to greet her. He was impossibly handsome also. I felt weak.
“Enchanté, Mariette!” He picked up her hand, bent over, and kissed it. He left his lips there for too long also, and Mariette was first to draw away. I could see that Mother was still as a statue, but inside perhaps a tangle of nerves and concern about the unpredictability of Laurence and the fate of another pretty female guest he had brought with him to pursue.
We were introduced to his friends, who prattled on about nothing of interest, about some people they knew in London, and the group laughed amongst themselves at a private joke. The girl, I noticed, looked up and down at Mariette curiously. Mariette remained beautiful in her riding outfit: a fact I am certain no one missed. She made an excuse to leave, and Laurence said that he hoped she would return soon. Mariette did not respond but looked down coyly, a reaction I had only seen her have with me. The attention was obviously distracting, and if I could have plucked out Laurence’s eyes without objection as he watched her leave the room, I would have done so. Mother used Mariette’s departure as an excuse to disappear from the event also.
We talked a bit more as a group before the guests moved out to view the lake from the French doors in the great hall. Laurence then cornered me.
“So Mother has written and told me all about her. There is a boy here somewhere apparently,” he said, eyes and brows raised toward the doorway behind me. “Mother seems to believe her. Do you? I mean seriously, Edgar knocking up some teenaged Frenchie. It does not seem believable. He avoided girls altogether from what I gathered.”
“You are incorrect as usual, Laurence, always putting a slant on th-th—” The word did not emerge. Since I had grown and parted from Laurence, and with the exception of a slight awkwardness around Mariette earlier, occurrences of my impediment were rare; many months would go by without even a trace. I silently scolded myself, wishing that my brother did not affect me so. I saw the smirk before he corrected himself.
I repeated the sentence in my head, then said what I had originally intended. “A slant on things to make people anything other than what they actually are.”
Laurence shrugged. He was a dreadful gossip; a purveyor of exaggerated information to make everyone else but him appear undesirable; selfish and thoughtless, too; and any similar descriptions I could produce. There weren’t enough. He craved attention, and if he wasn’t at the center of it, he would make damn sure that others weren’t, either.
Laurence examined me. “It appears you have had a wild encounter this afternoon, Dear Brother,” he said, dusting away some sand that had stuck to the side of my neck. “What sort of creature have you been fighting?”
I hoped I wasn’t blushing. Though there was nothing to say I had been intimate with Mariette, my expressions often gave me away.
“I suppose you believe her?” he asked.
“If you had listened to all the truths from Mother then you would know that we feel somewhat certain.”
“A piece of paper can be bought. And how do you know that it’s her name on the marriage certificate she carries? That it’s not someone else’s? And whether the child is really Edgar’s and not the fruit of some peasant?”
“That is detestable, what you say,” I said, seething. “Do not smear her that way!”
“Oh dear! Have you lost your heart already, Little Brother? You were always soft.”
“And you—you were always a sod!”
The girl, Elizabeth, had sauntered over to our conversation, and it gave me reason to disappear. She had been watching us as we talked, and I was certain there was or had been something between them. Laurence had casually discarded many women, though I could understand the initial attraction. He was tall, sandy-brown hair, forest-green eyes, perhaps too pretty, but men like Laurence seemed to be very fashionable at that time. What he did have in abundance was charm, and those in his sights were easily beguiled. He could draw one in effortlessly with words and his certain magnetism of looks and faux character. Though he could throw one out just as quickly if they did not meet his needs.
I felt sure that with Laurence as inheritor, I would be evicted from the manor quickly. I thought of the will that Mariette had shown me, the writing shaky but without a shadow of doubt Edgar’s. Would it hold up in a court of law, and if I did use it against Laurence, how long would that particular war continue? Laurence was not a person who liked to lose. He would fight for as long as his vanity allowed. Just that thought alone made me feel as if the case were already lost.
From the kitchen, seeking solace and trying to calm down from Laurence’s comments about Mariette, I watched my brother and his friends heading out to the lawn to play a game of croquet. I sought out Mother to plead for him to leave.
“I know you don’t like him here,” said Mother. “But he is my son also, as terrible a fop as he is sometimes. I want you to work harder to get along with him. When I am gone it is important. You will need each other.”
I sighed. “Of course, Mother.” Though the likelihood of friendship seemed to widen with every passing year.
Upstairs I looked in the mirror to see if I had given too much away. I did have a wild look about me. My hair was windswept and badly in need of a barber, my cheeks appeared to be blazing with color, and my skin was browned from working outdoors. I washed and changed for the evening while Mariette spent the remainder of the day in her room.
Tonight would be a full dining room, as all three of Laure
nce’s friends were staying, Peggy informed me without expression. Bert was driving into town with her for more supplies.
“I’m sorry, Peggy.”
“No need to worry about me, dear Rudy!” Though she treated us all equally, with rarely a bad word said about us, she also had felt the burden of Laurence throughout the years. Peggy had seen it all, and had kept her precious, pretty niece, Sally, well away from Laurence. Sally, two years older than Edgar, had worked here briefly after she turned fifteen but sought a life outside that of housekeeping.
Outside I saw Bert return with Samuel as they pulled up near the stable. As I walked toward them, a dog leaped from the trap. Samuel got out to follow the dog that was sniffing and examining the new surrounds.
“What have we here?”
“Missy!” shouted Samuel excitedly, rushing after the German shepherd.
“From one of the farmers’ sons who left today for work in the city,” said Bert. “Unfortunately, it is another mouth to fill that they can’t afford. I thought it would be good for the boy. He seems used to dogs. But I will find another home if you’d prefer.”
I looked at Samuel kneeling beside Missy, trying to get her attention with a wave of his hands. I could not refuse of course. It seemed everything was pointing to permanence for the boy. I should have been happy with events so far, but my mind was yet to lie at rest, and the picture I envisaged for the future still not complete. Not with Edgar in the past and Laurence here now to ruin things.
CHAPTER 11
I checked in on Peggy in the kitchen, lifting lids off steaming saucepans, the air thick with the smell of onions, fennel, and roasting chickens. In the days of my early childhood, Peggy would supervise the cook and a serving girl performing the kitchen work. My offers to help her were waved away, and I left for the dining room, entering the same time as Mother.
“Oh, Abigail, you look as bright as a sunny summer’s morning!” gushed Laurence from the head of the table, addressing Mother chummily by her name, as he often did.
Mother lowered her head modestly, but I saw the way he affected her as usual, making her blush with secret delight.
There was much chatter while the group continued with their banter and reflections on their recent social engagements, gathering and gossiping of people Mother and I had never heard about before. They had already gorged on the appetizers of cheese pastries and pâté on thinly sliced toast and small dishes of seasoned mackerel that Peggy had magically conjured up quickly for them while they sipped on wine. Mother once would have enjoyed the dinner party, but I could tell from a tightening of the lips, ever so slight, that she felt a measure of disdain toward Laurence’s choice of friends.
After twenty minutes there was no sign of Mariette. Just as I rose to inquire about her, Peggy entered carrying trays of food, followed by Mariette doing the same. She wore an apron and looked flushed from the heated kitchen. Peggy apologized for the lateness.
Mother looked discomfited since she still demanded the appropriateness of stations for the sake of public functions. It was unheard of, one of the guests helping out in the kitchen, but I could see that Mother underneath it all was as impressed as I was. Was there nothing Mariette couldn’t, wouldn’t do?
“Mariette, please sit down,” said Mother gently, though I recognized the terseness of it also.
“I tried to tell her,” said Peggy, shaking her head, though I am certain it would have pleased her nonetheless.
Mariette left for a moment and returned apronless and breathtaking. She wore the pink dress and had pinned up part of her hair, leaving several long, thick tendrils spilling over the front of her shoulders. She also wore the earrings. I felt proud and possessive as she took her place next to me, and the appreciative eyes of the other men did not go unnoticed.
The more times I saw Mariette, the more times I wanted to be with her, and I found that she featured in my thoughts every single minute whether she was in or out of sight. That night she was arresting, and the doubts that lingered somewhere behind the euphoria of spending part of the day with her didn’t rear their heads in those moments she was at my side. And whether any further truths about the past did in fact surprise me, I’m not sure I would have cared. She was now very much a part of my present.
“So tell me, Mariette,” Laurence said, accentuating her name. “You and your son have traveled from . . . where was it again?”
“Northern France.”
“Ah yes! Tragic mess! I was there, you know.”
Mariette’s interest was piqued, and she queried him on his service. He spoke of his time in France. He thankfully erased any combat detail that might shock Mother, while engaging everyone at the table with an episode of his heroic brilliance that his friends had likely heard already. Perhaps there appeared an element of jealousy on my part when Laurence spoke, but it was more annoyance that Laurence’s descriptions of all events seemed only ever to feature him alone and not the other poor souls around him who undoubtedly contributed also. He turned again to question Mariette.
“Many people who left there are returning,” Mariette said. “The place that I lived in was destroyed, taken over by Germans. I lived in a little farmhouse outside the town. Since then, and until his recent death, I lived with an uncle nearby in another village.”
“And what did you farm?”
“It was an orchard. We grew apples and pears.”
“How very charming!” said Elizabeth.
“And it was at the orchard where you fell in love with our brother?” asked Laurence, looking directly at me.
She smiled a little awkwardly.
“Yes, it was, Master Watts.”
“Please, Laurence will do . . . You’re my sister now. Isn’t that right?”
One of the gentlemen with him smirked into his lap. Laurence had no doubt filled them in.
Mother stepped in before I had a chance. “Laurence, the boy is much like your brother in some of his mannerisms. You must meet him in the morning. Spend some time with him.” I was surprised by Mother. She had until that moment still shown skepticism, but I wondered if this turn was merely to give Mariette a chance to survive the night.
“Of course,” said Laurence, gazing thoughtfully at Mariette, and there was a flash of something ominous about the look that suggested there was much to come in the way of curiosity. More than anyone, Laurence was aware of the changes that might be afoot with a son of Edgar’s: changes that would drastically alter his life. However, he was clever at disguising his concerns.
“I have a nephew, everyone. Please, let’s drink to that.”
They clinked glasses, but Mother was looking suddenly wan, her anxiety about to induce one of her headaches.
“Tell me about Edgar, Mariette. Did he talk about us much?”
“Hmm,” she said thoughtfully. “I’m not sure, but I think that something about an ass was mentioned in the same sentence. No doubt he was talking about your horse.”
Laurence looked at her, expressionless, and one of the other men laughed, provoking the rest of us to do the same. Laurence glanced around the room and back at Mariette, whose expression, haughty and winning in some way, had not faltered.
He laughed then as well, though he was accomplished at appearing genuine also. “To my sister and my nephew then! It seems you have a personality and wit to match your beauty, my dear.”
He waited for Mariette to raise her glass. She made him wait, and then they clinked and made eye contact across the top of their glasses. I thought it was gracious of Laurence, congratulating her for the remark, perhaps admitting a minor defeat, but the connection they had made bothered me. The moment was so fleeting anyone else would have missed it, but I could tell that she was suddenly elevated to some higher standing in Laurence’s eyes. I didn’t like that they were now in a small way friends, and I felt excluded somehow.
Mother excused herself at the conclusion of the meal, and Laurence proceeded with the after-dinner drinks. We first took our sherry in the dr
awing room, and the others draped themselves across sofas. The men were mildly inebriated, and I took every opportunity to sit near Mariette. Perhaps it was protective or possessive, or maybe a touch of both. She was the focus of attention from Laurence’s guests as she began talking about French customs and life on an orchard, with occasional anecdotes about the gossiping townsfolk. Laurence was watching her, hiding carefully behind his cigarette smoke, exhaling while inspecting every word for sincerity. It was part of the lawyer in him, but part of his own enjoyment to search for a weakness in someone. He was not so much enjoying what she was saying but learning from it. And suddenly, as he was so easily bored, he jumped up.
“Well, what say we get out of this place and have some fun? We’ll take lanterns from the stable and go on a hunt.”
“What sort of hunt?” asked Elizabeth with some apprehension, peering out the window at the night.
“Not exactly a hunt.”
I knew the proposal was what we had often done as boys, to go searching across the meadows and clumps of trees for blackbird or skylark eggs or chicks. It was a competition, and the first to find any would receive an extra bun or toffee from Peggy. Though we were not to remove them from their ground nests.
Laurence explained the idea of it to the rest of them.
“Oh, that sounds like fun!” said Elizabeth with sudden enthusiasm.
“And what is the prize?” I asked dubiously, knowing the likelihood of finding any at this time of year was slim and hoping that there would be eventual and unanimous disagreement about the idea.
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