“Please, sir, you mustn’t say those things!”
“Why not? They’re true enough.” He suddenly reached for her and kissed her before she could move.
“Oh, sir, you shouldn’t do that!”
“Why, Rosie, I thought you liked me.” He held her closely and noticed that she made little attempt to get away from him.
Suddenly a voice said, “Are you busy, Cousin?”
Caught off guard, Trevor turned and saw that Gervase had walked up the stairs and now stood smiling at him, mischief in her eyes.
Rosie pulled away at once and fled up the stairs. Her face was flushed, and she was visibly upset.
Trevor glared at Gervase. She was wearing a riding costume, he noticed, but he was angry and embarrassed for some reason.
“Been doing a little snoopin’ are you?”
“Not at all.”
“Yes, you were. Go on, tell me I was out of line. That I wasn’t behavin’ right.”
“All right. You were out of line.”
Trevor grew irritated. “She wasn’t puttin’ up no fight.”
“Trevor, she couldn’t put up a fight.”
“If she didn’t like me, she could.”
“She doesn’t like you.”
“Why’d she let me kiss ’er then?”
Gervase shrugged, and her voice was easy and natural. “She didn’t have any choice. That’s the way it is with pretty young maids. When the young master of the house forces himself on them, what are they going to do? Are they going to scream and slap his face?”
“That’s wot she ought to do.”
“Then she’d be put out of the house without a character reference. She’d have a hard time finding another job, and you don’t realize how hard it is on an attractive woman who’s a servant in a big house like this. They’re at the mercy of the owners. How could they complain? Some of them get with child, and then they are simply pushed out of the house, perhaps with nothing.”
“Well, that ain’t right.”
“That’s the way it is though, and that’s why you need to be careful. They don’t have many friends, young girls like Rosie.”
Trevor stopped, gnawing his lower lip. Gervase could see his mind working quickly. Finally he shrugged, “I didn’t know all ’at.”
“Well, of course you didn’t, but you know now, and I’m sure you’ll keep it in mind. Come along.”
“Come along where?”
“I’m going to take you for a ride.”
“You mean in the carriage?”
“No, silly. On a horse. Have you ever ridden?”
“Never been on a ’orse in my life and don’t want to.”
She suddenly reached out and took his arm. “Yes, you do. It’ll be fun. Come on. Go put your heavy coat on. It’s cold out, and then we’ll introduce you to a horse.”
Trevor was of a mind to refuse, but he found himself warming to the young woman’s outgoing warmth. “All right.” He went back to his room, got his coat, and the two stepped outside. They were at once confronted by the huge dog that Trevor had noted before. The Great Dane advanced, his eyes on Trevor.
“Wot’s ’e coming at me like that for?” Trevor demanded nervously.
“He just needs to be introduced. Here, Jason. You be nice.” She stooped over and put her hand on the dog’s head. “This is Master Trevor Hayden. He’s a good friend of mine, so you be nice to him, you hear?” She looked up and smiled. “Now put your hand out and let him smell it.”
“’E might bite it off.”
“Nonsense! Don’t move quickly. He’s careful who he makes friends with. If you don’t, he might think you want to harm me, and then I couldn’t answer for him.”
Trevor laughed. “Some bodyguard you got.” He put his hand out, ready to draw it back at the first sight of fangs, but the big dog smelled it carefully.
“Now, pat him on the head.”
Trevor did so, still moving carefully.
“Now, kneel down beside him and put your arm around him and call him a sweet name.”
“I ain’t calling no dog no sweet name.” He knelt down nevertheless and put his arm around the big dog. “’E’s a monster, ’e is! You ’ad ’im long?”
“Since he was a puppy.”
“Why’d you name ’im Jason?”
The two stood up, and Jason seemed pacified as they walked toward the stable. “When I got him my father had been reading me stories from Greek myths, and in one that I loved there was a character called Jason. Have you ever heard the story of Jason and the Argonauts?”
“No, I ain’t ’eard many stories.”
“It’s about a young man who had to go on a quest to recover the Golden Fleece.”
“The Golden Fleece? Wot was that?”
“Oh, it was a golden ram that saved some people. He was sacrificed to the gods, and his fleece was hung up.”
“Wot did Jason ’ave to do with it?”
“He was a hero. He had been robbed of his kingdom by a wicked uncle, and now he had been sent off to get the Golden Fleece and bring it back. Many heroes had gone looking for it, and all of them had died because a monstrous dragon guarded it.”
“There ain’t no such things as dragons.”
“Of course not. It’s just a story, but it was so much fun.”
“Well, did ’e get the bloody fleece or not?”
“He got there, and a woman named Medea helped him. She cast a spell on the dragon, and Jason stole the fleece and came home.”
“Wot happened to the woman?”
“Well, they got married.”
“And lived ’appily ever after?”
“Well, actually not. I never liked the ending of that story. Medea was an evil woman really. She actually killed three of her own children.”
“I wouldn’t like a story like that. I like ’appy endings.”
“So do I, so I wouldn’t let Papa tell me the ending. But it was exciting how Jason was so heroic and brave and strong.” She laughed, and he was amazed at how free she was. “You’re like Jason, Trevor.”
“Me a ’ero? Not likely!”
“Well, I mean he had to go looking for something that was almost impossible to get, and that’s what you’re doing.”
“I don’t know wot you mean by that.”
“I mean it would be as easy to get the Golden Fleece as it is for you to become a gentleman, to fit yourself into Uncle Edward’s idea of what his son ought to be.” Her words caught at Trevor, and he felt the truth of them.
“I can’t never do it,” he said bitterly. “You ’ave to start when you’re a baby to be a lord.”
He said no more, and neither did she urge him on, for they had reached the stables. Tim Moorhaven, the groom, came out. “Tim, we’re going for a ride. Saddle Juliet for me.”
“Yes, and you, sir?”
Trevor wasn’t used to being called sir, and Gervase said, “You have a choice. You can have an older, steadier horse. We’ve got one called Oscar. It’s like riding in a rocking chair.”
“Wot else is ’ere?”
“Well, you can have a better horse, but he will have some spirit. You might fall off.”
“I’ll ’ave ’at one,” Trevor said instantly, challenged by her words.
She laughed and said, “Saddle Prince for Master Trevor.”
“I don’t know, miss. He’s quite lively if the gentleman ain’t rode much.”
“Saddle the bloody ’orse,” Trevor said.
The two stood there, and Trevor watched carefully as the horses were being prepared. He was aware that Gervase was studying him. “Why do you want to take a chance on falling?”
He turned to her and laughed. “I didn’t want you to think I was afraid of a bleeding ’orse.”
“I wouldn’t think that.”
“Why not?”
“I just don’t think you’d be afraid of most things.”
“No? Well, wot do you think I’m afraid of ?” he challenged her.
“Like all the rest of us, Trevor, you’re afraid of things you don’t know and things you don’t understand. I’m that way myself.”
He hardly knew what to make of her speech, and finally Moor-haven brought the horses out. He helped Gervase on and then said, “Sir, you get on from this side.”
Trevor glared at him. “I don’t see wot difference it makes.”
“It makes a difference to the horse, sir. They don’t like things they’re not used to.”
Trevor clumsily got on, and he felt very high off the ground. He turned and looked at Gervase who was smiling at him. “Wot do I do now?”
“Don’t fall off.”
“Wot if I do?”
“Well, get back on then. Come on.”
He said, “I don’t know a bloody thing about ’orses.”
“Just touch him with your heels, and he’ll start walking, but keep a good hold on those reins. Sometimes they get the bit in their teeth and pull the reins right out of your hands.”
The horses proceeded at a walk, and Trevor was enjoying it. He had often seen gentlemen on horseback and admired the way they handled them. Finally he said, “’Ow ’bout we go faster?”
“Of course, but the faster you go, the more likely you are to fall off.”
He touched Prince with his heels, and the animal at once responded by bursting into a canter. He bounced up and down on the saddle but managed to hang on. He looked over at Gervase, who had pulled up even with him, and saw how easily she rode. “Let’s go faster,” he said.
“Better not, Trevor.”
“Come on.” He kicked Prince with his heels, and the horse shot forward. To his shock he found it was exciting and that he wasn’t afraid at all. He did well enough until they came to a tree fallen across the path. Prince rose in the air, and Trevor rose with him, of course. When he came down he felt a jar, and the next thing he knew he was turning a flip. He hit the ground flat on his back.
He lay there for a moment and found it difficult to breathe. He was aware then that Gervase had come quickly and was standing over him. “Are you all right?” she asked, leaning over. Her voice was anxious, and she put her hand on his chest.
“Of course I’m all right.” He got up and grinned at her. “That was fun, right ’nough, but I reckon I need some lessons.”
“Why, you’re doing fine, Trevor. The main thing is not to be afraid, and you’re not. Here, let me catch Prince for you.”
The ride continued after she retrieved the horse, and when they finally went back, Tim was waiting for them. “Was your ride all right, Miss Gervase?”
“It was fine.”
“And you, sir, did you like your ride?”
“The ’orse is smarter than me, I’m afraid, Tim.”
“No, sir, you’ll learn. You surely will.”
As Trevor and Gervase walked back toward the house, they passed behind a copse of trees, and suddenly he reached out and grabbed her, holding her tight facing him. “You ain’t no parlour maid wot ’as to give in to a bloke.”
“No, I’m not,” Gervase said. She did not struggle, and she was watching him carefully.
“Wot if I kiss you?”
“Why, I’d fight you.”
“You’d lose.”
“I suppose so, but one of the things you’d soon learn is don’t kiss a woman who doesn’t want to be kissed.”
“You don’t like me then?”
“That’s not it. I like you very much, Trevor, and I’d like to help you become what Uncle Edward and Aunt Heather want you to be.”
“You like me, but you don’t want me to kiss you. Maybe it’s because we’re cousins.”
“We’re not really.”
He dropped his arms. “Wot do you mean?”
“I’m not Arthur Hayden’s real daughter. My mother was Rachel Reis. She was married to Ramon Reis, a captain of the Spanish Navy, but he was killed. My father met her, fell in love with her, and married her. He adopted me legally.”
“Wot about yer ma?”
“She died when I was only four. So, you see, I’m only your cousin legally. You’re really more of a Hayden than I am.”
Her words confused Trevor. “Well, I didn’t know that.” He felt uncomfortable, for there was something about this girl that was honest and forthright. He had seen pretty girls before but none more beautiful than this one. Finally he said, “Well, since we ain’t really cousins, maybe I’ll get that kiss sometime.”
“I’ll tell you what,” Gervase said, her eyes dancing. “You stay on Prince at a dead run through the woods, and I’ll give you a kiss.” She laughed then and said, “Come on.”
“Where to now?”
“My father’s painting my portrait. I’ll sit for him, and you can watch.”
SIXTEEN
Dylan got up from the bed where he had been lying flat on his back, holding a book and reading it with considerable discomfort. Tossing the book on the solitary chair in the small room, he took two steps over to the window and stared out. The view was practically nonexistent. All he could see was the shabby building next door and a flock of sparrows fighting over some sort of food in the snow below the window. The world was white, but Dylan could see little of it. The view depressed him, and turning away, he went to the chair and sat on it with discouragement. He had left Matthew Grant’s rooms feeling that he was an imposition. Money was short, and he had only a few guineas left from the fee that Lord Darby had given him. His financial future looked bleak indeed.
Shifting his weight on the chair, he looked down and saw a bright-eyed mouse had suddenly appeared from under the bed. He smiled and said softly, “Well, here you are again for a handout, I suppose.” Getting up, he went over to the meal table, took a bit of bread from under a pewter cover, and tossed it toward the mouse. He watched as she reached down with delicate paws, turned it around and around, and began to nibble. “A beautiful creature you are,” he said. “God made everything beautiful in its time.”
He sat there watching the mouse only for a few seconds, and then a loud rapping at his door brought his attention around.
“You don’t have to break it down, do you?” he muttered.
Getting up, he wondered who could be visiting him, because only Matthew knew where he was staying. He opened the door and found a woman standing there. She smiled broadly, “I found you, Dylan. You can’t hide from a determined woman.”
Dylan returned the woman’s smile. He had always liked Bess Cauthen. They had been in several plays together, and in the time before he had become a Christian, they had been somewhat more than friends. “Come in, Bess, to my palatial quarters,” he said. He stepped back, and his eyes ran over her. She had flaming red hair, broad lips tinted with some sort of cosmetic, and dark blue eyes. Her figure was good, although she was a little heavier than he had remembered her. She was wearing a green coat, and somehow she looked older.
“Well, you’ve come down in the world, my boy,” Bess said.
“Yes, I’ve lost my fortune, Bess, you’ll be sorry to hear. You’ll not be interested in me anymore, poor beggar that I am.”
“Well, you don’t have to be poor anymore.” Bess took a step closer to him, and he could smell the aroma of her perfume, the same she always wore, which smelled like gardenia blossoms.
“What does that mean, Bess?”
“Oh, I’m not offering to keep you. You’re not suited for that, but Knowles is looking for you. He wants you to take that part in All for Love. ”
Instantly Dylan shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “Well, you’ve made a trip for nothing, Bess. I’m not taking that role.”
“You’re a fool, Dylan! Knowles is the best producer in New York, and that play is going to be a hit. It’s going to make us both famous.”
“Not me, Bess. I’m out.”
For a second Bess stood looking at Dylan. She reached up and tapped her full lower lip with a forefinger and finally shook her head with something like disgust.“I know what it is. You
’re too holy to be in a play like that.”
“Don’t put it like that, Bess. It’s just that I don’t agree with the values of that play.”
“It’s about men and women in love. You believe in that, don’t you? I seem to remember you knew a little along those lines when we were together.”
A faint colour tinged Dylan Tremayne’s cheeks. He knew she had bested him here, for they had been lovers at one time. Since he had given his life to Christ, he was struggling to find his way out of all that, and all he could say now was, “I just don’t want to be in a play that makes sex such a mechanical thing.”
Bess stared at him in disbelief. “Dylan, it’s only a play! It doesn’t mean you’re like the people in the play.”
“I know, but it could lead some people in the audience in the wrong direction. I just can’t do it.”
Bess moved closer and put her arms around his neck. She pressed herself against him, and he was intensely aware of the warmth of her body and also of his own desires. Pulling his head down, Bess kissed him on the lips. She let herself linger there, and Dylan could think of no way to avoid this scene. Pulling away would seem rude, and they had been close at one time.
“I miss you, Dylan. We could have a good life together.”
Dylan sought rapidly in his mind for a reply, but he could not think of a single word to say. He was actually relieved when another knock came at the door. “Excuse me, Bess,” he said.
“You expecting company?”
“Nobody knows I’m here. How did you find me?”
“I went to that friend of yours in Scotland Yard, Inspector Grant. He told me where you were living.”
“That’s probably Grant now.” Opening the door, indeed Dylan did find Matthew Grant standing there. He was bundled up in a heavy coat, and his cheeks were red with the cold. “Come in, Grant. I believe you know Miss Cauthen.”
“Yes, how are you, Miss Cauthen?”
“I’m fine, Inspector. Have you come to arrest Dylan?”
“No, not at all. He’s a good friend of mine.”
“Well, he needs good friends,” the actress snapped, shaking her head with disgust. “I brought him the best news an actor could want. George Knowles is the biggest producer in New York, and he’s offered the leading role in a new play to Dylan. He’ll be starring with me. The fool is turning him down. Try to get him to be sensible, would you, Inspector?”
A Conspiracy of Ravens Page 18
