"Good morning," I murmured.
His lips grazed my cheek and my traitorous body moved. My husband laughed. "Lovely Hester," he whispered, drawing me once more into a passionate embrace. "Hungry Hester."
* * * *
Sometime later, he left my bed. Striding in naked splendor to the door that opened into his room, he blew me a kiss. "Stay cozy till I send Betty to help you dress."
As he shut the door to his room, I sighed luxuriantly and stretched, letting my hands stray toward my stomach. Now I was a wife and perhaps already I was on my way to becoming a mother.
Betty came in good time and helped me into my gown, clicking her tongue as she retrieved Edward's discarded clothing. "Just like a little one a man be," she chuckled. "When he be wanting that." She looked at me slyly, perhaps wondering if I would take offense, but on that morning nothing could have offended me. I simply laughed with her.
"I will see you later, Betty," I said when I was dressed. "I will be taking over some of the boys' care." I paused. "But I wonder, would you continue to look out for them?"
"Of course, milady." She eyed me leerily. "But them twins—"
"It’s not uncommon for twins to create their own language," I said calmly.
Betty's eyes widened. "You mean that ain't the devil atalking through them?"
"Of course not, Betty. It's just a language they've made up."
Betty grinned. "Well I never! Them little rascals! Sure, milady, I'll be watching of 'em."
* * * *
I hummed under my breath as I descended the great stairs. The hall was just as gloomy as ever, but my spirits were so high that even the darkness seemed warm.
The sideboard was loaded with food. I filled a plate, eager to eat and get to the boys. I planned to start that day with history, teaching them more about the reign of Henry VIII. They should know more about that monarch than his abhorrence of things Catholic.
I had put away a good amount of food and was feeling quite pleased with myself and with life in general when I heard a whistling in the hall.
I looked up in time to see a man enter the room. I knew at once that he was Edward's brother, Robert. The family resemblance was there, though Robert did not appear to be nearly as handsome as my husband.
He was younger, but there was a certain slackness around his overfull lips, a certain puffiness around his jaded eyes, that bespoke a life of dissipation.
The glance he threw my way on first entering the room soon became a detailed perusal of my person. "Well, well," he exclaimed. "Edward didn't say you were such a beauty."
He crossed and took my hand, raising it to his lips in a practiced gesture, but I remained unimpressed. Rakes had always seemed to me at best rather useless creatures.
"No words of welcome from such a vision of loveliness?" He grinned at me and I conceded that he had a certain charm. "Has she perhaps the voice of a frog?"
"Her voice is quite normal." Edward came into the room, moving directly to my side.
I had already removed my fingers from his brother's grasp. Edward took them possessively in his own. A surge of warmth rippled through me.
"Have you seen your sons yet?" I asked Robert.
He shrugged. "No. They're well enough, though, I suppose."
I glared at the man. "Well enough! And how would you know? Man, these are your children, your own flesh and blood! Have you no feeling for them?"
He didn't seem the least perturbed. "My dear Hester, you will get nowhere by yelling at me in that shrewish fashion. As Edward will be only too glad to tell you."
My husband's tightened lips confirmed this and he nodded grimly.
Robert laughed. "It's no use, Hester. I cannot be reformed. I'm too much like our dear departed father for reformation. Give me wine, women, and song—and I'm happy."
"You're disgusting," Edward said grimly. "How long do you plan to stay this time?"
"Till quarter day, of course." He cast a shrewd glance at Edward. "Unless, of course, you'll give me my money now."
Edward cursed, then looked to me and clamped his mouth shut.
"Forgive my dear brother," Robert said with false cheerfulness. "He's forgotten how to act around a woman."
This I knew to be a lie, but I did not respond to his baiting.
"The care of the earldom weighs heavy on his shoulders," Robert continued. "So heavy." And he sent Edward a provoking look.
I sighed. It was easy to see that there was no love lost between the brothers. But I could hardly blame Edward for that. After the scandal he had suffered with his wife, he must be doubly wounded by his brother's indiscretions. And for the man to behave so callously toward his own children—
I turned to my husband and smiled. He finally was my husband, and much to my satisfaction. He smiled back at me, warmly, tenderly.
Robert snorted. "Perhaps I should leave you lovebirds to your billing and cooing."
Edward's expression hardened. 'That won't be necessary. Besides, I wish to have some words with you in private."
"Of course, brother dear."
I did not see how Robert could be so nonchalant. If Edward were glaring at me in that grim fashion, I knew I should be really alarmed.
But Edward was smiling at me. "I'll see you later, dear," he said, and bent to put a kiss on my brow. Then he straightened. "Come, Robert, let's go to the drawing room."
Chapter Seven
After my husband and his brother disappeared down the hall, I finished my tea and set out for the nursery. I had settled on a plan of attack—sometimes winning over a boy seemed rather like fighting a war. But the results were usually much better.
I pushed open the nursery door. The twins were at play upon the hearth, their lead soldiers battling with miniature troops of Napoleon.
Ned, however, stood across the room, gazing out the narrow window toward the stables.
"Good morning," I said, putting as much cheerfulness as I could into my voice.
"Morning, milady." Betty raised her head from her mending and nodded.
The twins looked up and smiled. "Good," said one. "Morning," said the other.
I returned their smiles. They seemed quite healthy in their outlook—Robert's children—perhaps it was just as well he had not spent much time with them. Such a man could be a bad influence.
Ned turned from the window, his eyes eager. "Did you—" He stopped himself. "Good morning, Hester."
"Good morning, Ned."
I saw the boy's mouth quiver slightly. He was anxious to know about the dog but obviously afraid to ask.
"Well," I said, smiling at them all. "I have a piece of good news."
Ned's face lit up, but he said nothing more.
"Ned, your father says you may bring Captain back to the nursery."
"Capital!" the twins cried in unison.
"He's mine!" Ned said fiercely, scowling at the twins. "All mine."
The twins exchanged a look, but kept silent.
"Of course the dog is yours," I agreed. "And you will want to bring him in soon, but perhaps you should wait till we've had our lessons."
The boy's face fell. "Of course," he said slowly, reluctantly. "Captain likes it outside."
"On the other hand," I went on, as though considering all the possibilities, "it might be useful to have him along with us."
All three of them stared at me, but it was Ned who echoed, "Along with us?"
"Yes," I said. "I thought we'd have our history lesson while we look for secret passageways and the priest hole you told me about."
The three of them gaped at me. Finally Ned asked, "You mean we're going to look for them? Really look for them?"
"Yes," I said. "It should be an interesting lesson. Of course we could stay in the classroom and just—"
The twins got to their feet, their make-believe battles forgotten. "Dogs're good." "At smelling things out," they observed in tandem.
"Maybe he can find something," Ned said, for once not disagreeing with the others.
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I had no idea what the dog might find, but Ned was obviously eager to get the animal back into the castle. "Yes," he said, nodding. "He's good at sniffing things out. I'm sure he can help. I'll go get him."
He was halfway to the door before he stopped. "Can I?" he turned to ask, his eyes pleading.
"Yes, Ned. But come right back. We'll be ready."
When Ned returned short minutes later, the dog was at his heels—a nondescript black dog, stocky, medium-sized, greying at the muzzle. He took one look at me and started yipping. Ned quieted him. "It's all right, Captain. Hester belongs here."
I swallowed hastily over the lump that had risen in my throat. That was good! The boy was already on his way to accepting me.
The dog came to me then, sniffing my skirts. I knelt and looked into his deep brown eyes. "Hello, Captain," I said softly, stretching out a tentative hand. The dog sniffed it, too, finally gave it a lick, and turned back to the boy.
"He likes you," Ned said, his hand resting possessively on the dog's head. "He only licks people he likes."
"That's right," said the twins.
Hiding my satisfaction, I got to my feet. "Now, where shall we start?"
* * * *
An hour later we were back in the nursery. We had found no secret passageways, no priest hole, but what we had found was more important—a common ground where we could meet and get to know each other.
Certainly Ned and the twins were still not friends, but at least they were able to speak to each other with some civility.
We gathered around the table then and Ned read to me. When I told him to pass the book to Peter, the boy shook his head. "Can't," he said.
"Now, Peter, come. Give it a try."
Peter and Paul exchanged some unintelligible words, then Peter turned to me. "Can't neither of us read nor write."
"Oh." How stupid of me to have forgotten the twins' origin. "Well," I said, "we'll fix that."
Paul stared at me. "Don't need to read. Gonna work the fields."
"Of course you need to read," I said firmly.
Peter raised an eyebrow, blue eyes very like his father's boring into mine. "Why?"
Why indeed? I thought. Given Robert's attitude they were lucky to have a roof over their heads, food to eat, and clothes to wear. An education was quite a luxury.
Still I persisted. These children were in my charge and while I was responsible for them, they would learn. "Because reading and writing will help you—"
"Don't see how," Peter interrupted.
I hesitated, trying to think of some good reply. But while I sought in my mind for some acceptable reason they would understand, the door opened.
"Hello," Robert said, giving me a practiced smile. "The chatelaine at work. You make a pretty picture."
I stiffened, his compliment making me uneasy. I disliked his rakish attitude and I meant to stand for none of that behavior in front of the children.
When he got no response from me, Robert turned to Ned. "What are you studying today?"
The boy smiled. 'This morning we looked for secret passageways. Hester got Father to let Captain back into the nursery. And now we're reading." Ned looked at the twins. "Only they can't."
Robert frowned. "Can't read, is it? As I remember, it's rather a tough job at first." He crossed the room to lean over, his face close to mine. "What seems to be the problem?"
'There is no problem," I replied, leaning in the other direction, away from him. Why must the man get so close to me? ''The twins have had no lessons, so naturally they can't read."
"They said they won't need it," Ned volunteered. "Wish I didn't have to learn."
Robert frowned. "Of course you have to learn. You're a gentleman's son."
I couldn't believe the man's calloused disregard for his own children. The poor things had already suffered enough, probably been called all kinds of ugly names by the village children. And now—now their father was ignoring them, acting like they were invisible. And to add insult to injury, he was making up to Ned.
"Reading and writing are useful accomplishments for any person," I said firmly. "They will be useful to the twins."
For the first time, Robert turned his attention to his sons. The twins stared back at him, their expressions wary. When they exchanged remarks in their private language, I could not understand the sense of them, but I knew by the inflection that one questioned the other. Were they discussing their father?
"So, Peter, Paul," Robert said, his eyes narrowing. "Do you know who I am?"
Paul's face grew guarded. "You're Ned's Uncle Robert."
Robert nodded, but he looked almost disappointed. "What else do you know about me?"
Paul opened his mouth, then closed it again. "Not allowed to say," Peter observed.
I almost gasped. These children had been forbidden to name their own father. "Why?" I asked.
"Made Gramps mad," Peter said, sending his father a sly look.
Robert nodded. "I see."
I swallowed a curse. Was the man so hard-hearted he couldn't acknowledge his own children?
"Gramps isn't here," I pointed out. "So it's all right to say."
Peter and Paul exchanged another string of unintelligible syllables. "You're right," Paul said to me. He turned to Peter.
"We know," Peter said. "You're our father."
Somewhat to my surprise, Robert smiled. "Right," he said. "And now that you're living in the castle, you'll need to learn to read and write. Will you do that for me? Will you learn?"
I gaped like any country bumpkin. The unmitigated gall of the man—to ignore his sons for six years and then expect them to obey him!
But Peter and Paul didn't hesitate, they didn't consult in their private language, they didn't even look at each other. "Yes," they said together. "We will."
And while Ned and I watched in surprise, Robert took his sons by the hands and went to look at their tin soldiers, lying still upon the hearth.
* * * *
The rest of the day went quite well. After Robert left the nursery, with promises to his sons to spend more time with them, we went on to lessons in addition.
By the time we finished it was almost the hour for lunch. I decided to leave the boys to their meal with Betty and started for the door.
"Hester?" It was Ned, his voice hesitant.
I turned. "Yes?"
"When are you coming back?"
I hid my smile. "I think for a while we'll have lessons in the morning. In the afternoons you boys may play."
Ned's face lit up. "Or ride?"
I swallowed my sudden fear. "Yes. Your father told me that you have a pony."
Ned nodded.
"What about Peter and Paul?"
Ned frowned, but it looked somewhat put on to me. "I don't know. They weren't here when Father bought my pony."
I turned to the twins. "Do you ride?"
'"Course." "We do."
'Then I shall send word to the stables. The three of you may ride together."
Ned looked somewhat put out. "Unless," I added, "you would prefer to stay in and have more lessons."
The twins sent Ned a disgusted look. "No, no," he hurried to say. "That last governess used to tell me that fresh air was good for me."
I swallowed my smile. "Very well. You may ride this afternoon."
* * * *
After I freshened up, I went down the dark stairs to the dining room. The hall was still chill and dank, but I was warmed by thoughts of seeing Edward. My truant thoughts actually strayed to the coming evening—and bedtime.
I flushed and hurried on. Perhaps eventually I would get used to being Edward's wife, to feeling his kisses and—
I forced myself to push such disturbing thoughts from my mind. Darkness would come—and with it the closeness I longed for. In the meantime, I entered the empty dining room and filled my plate.
My appetite had always been healthy and my morning's work had made me hungry. I was about half finished when Edward came in.
I smiled at him—my husband—such a fine-looking man. "I was hoping to see you," I said.
He didn't return my smile. In fact, he frowned. He didn't fill a plate either, but advanced to the table and stood glaring down at me. "I have been wanting to speak to you," he said darkly.
My heart rose up in my throat. What had caused this sudden change in his behavior? Only this morning he had folded me in passionate embraces. And now he was glaring at me as though I had become the worst kind of criminal. I couldn't help wondering how I had offended him, but a moment's recollection gave me no clue.
So I asked. "Edward, what is wrong? Why do you glare at me so?"
He scowled, his dark brows meeting in a fierce line. "Didn't I tell you?"
I got to my feet—it seemed easier to face him that way. I felt less frightened. "Tell me what?"
"What do you think you're doing?"
Now I was getting angry, fast losing patience at this foolish sort of interrogation. "Doing about what?" I demanded crossly. "For heaven's sake, Edward, make some sense! Whatever are you talking about?"
"Priest holes and secret passageways," he intoned darkly.
I still did not understand. "What about them?"
He stiffened and seemed to loom even larger. "You are encouraging the boys to look for them. This can only cause trouble."
The trouble was coming from Robert—I strongly suspected. Who else would have reported our excursion? "Edward," I kept my tone calm. "You know the boys are going to look for these anyway. Wouldn't it be wiser to have a grown-up along?"
He drew himself up even more—a big man, and in his present mood very threatening. 'The boys are forbidden to look for secret passageways!" he thundered. "They are not to have their heads filled with talk of such things—secret chambers and priest holes, indeed! Have you no idea how dangerous this can be?"
My patience was exhausted. "Of course I know. That's why I thought it better for me to be along when they found them."
"It is not better," he cried. "You are not to look for such things, not to talk of such things. Is that understood?"
I drew myself up to my full height and met the blazing anger of his eyes. "Yes, milord," I said sharply. I was quite capable of anger myself. "You have made yourself amply clear."
He stared at me for a moment, then spun on his heel and stalked out.
The Haunting of Grey Cliffs Page 6
