by Jo Beverley
She raised her eyes from that, saw his smile, and fled into her room. Once there she was strongly tempted to lock the adjoining door, but as he’d pointed out, she couldn’t lock both, or how would Alice get in the next morning? She could only trust his word.
And pray for good sense.
He’d always had the ability to set strange sensations churning within her, sensations that revealed human urges, sinful urges that must be controlled. Except that the morning’s vows meant that to succumb would not be a sin. It might even be her holy duty.
It would change their agreement and give him dominion over her.
This was a practical marriage with clear rules and boundaries. Her very sanity depended on maintaining them at all times.
It would be complete folly do otherwise. It truly would.
Chapter 18
Claris didn’t sleep well. She tried to block thoughts of the man next door by focusing on the many decisions to be made, but questions turned into dilemmas, and dilemmas threatened to be abysses of failure.
No abyss could be deeper than succumbing to the seductive powers of her husband.
Who’d never tried to seduce her.
Who surely didn’t want to.
He’d married her only under great compulsion, and she would not be a fool over that. . . .
When Alice wakened her by bringing up hot water, Claris groaned. “What time is it?”
“Nearly ten, ma’am.”
Alice’s eyes held a glint, and Claris realized the maid thought her exhausted by a wedding night.
Heaven help her, what should she do?
What impression did she want to make? That of a true wife or a practical, untouched one?
Instantly, she knew. A true wife. Perriam had been right there—she didn’t want the house and then the neighborhood to know that her husband wasn’t interested in her.
“Ma’am?”
She realized Alice had said something.
“Yes?”
“Chocolate and a sweet roll as usual, ma’am?”
“Yes, thank you.”
As soon as Alice had left, Claris sat up, fretting about details. Should her husband have been found in her bed this morning, or would it be normal for him to return to his own bed after . . . after whatever took place?
She looked at the two pillows on top of the bolster. She’d had such a restless night that both looked used.
What else?
Blood.
She’d heard enough village comments to know there was often blood involved in a wedding night. In fact, it was seen as proof that a bride had been a maid.
Should her sheets be marked with blood?
How much blood?
Claris found her needle case, pricked her finger, and squeezed a dome of blood. She smeared it on her bottom sheet, hoping it was enough. Surely the act couldn’t be so violent as to cause more.
She went behind the screen to wash, but halfway through she was struck by another thought. Had the twins washed last night? Would they this morning? She must definitely arrange a manservant for them.
She was in her shift when Alice returned with her breakfast. She put on the pink silk robe and sat to eat, wondering what to wear. Something simple, for she expected to be busy.
“The blue skirt and caraco jacket, Alice. And I’ll wear my unboned stays and old shoes.”
When she was dressed, she studied herself in the mirror. She looked sensible and ready to work, and that was as it should be. She pinned her hair up herself.
“Do you want a cap, ma’am, now you’re married?”
“No, but I suppose I should. Do I have any?”
“Oh!” Alice bit her lip.
Claris broke into laughter and the maid joined her and then clapped a hand over her mouth.
“By all means laugh. So much careful preparation, but one lack. I confess wearing a cap at all times seems a bother, but I should acquire some for formal occasions.” She remembered Perriam’s prediction that neighbors might visit, even as early as today. “Go and ask if my grandmother can see me.”
Alice returned, Athena behind her.
Athena waved away the maid and shut the door. “How are you?”
There was an implied question, but Claris decided it was none of her grandmother’s business. “Well enough considering the many challenges. I don’t have any caps.”
“Improvident. Come to my room. We will provide.”
Once there, Athena opened drawers herself.
“Where’s Ellie?”
“Exploring. This one will do.” She produced a small, shallow mobcap with an English lace trim. “It would be better with ribbons behind—flightily suitable for a bride—but that will have to wait.”
Claris put it on top of her head. “It serves no useful purpose.”
“Few things do. Will you be content here, do you think?”
Was she deliberately referring back to that so recent day when Claris had insisted that she was content with Lavender Cottage?
“I believe I can be,” Claris said as she pinned the cap in place. “The manor is larger than I expected and in a less pleasant state, but in time it can be my home.”
“And your husband?”
Claris turned to face her. “Is keeping to our agreement. He will leave tomorrow.”
The twitch on Athena’s face was impossible to interpret.
“What of you?” Claris asked. “Can you be content here?”
“I’m never content, child. I’m a restless soul. However, Perriam Manor is a vast improvement on that cottage.”
Claris asked a question that puzzled her. “Why did you stay there with me?”
“I decided to do my duty for once.”
“The boys and I are well situated now. If you wish to travel again, you must do so.”
“I’m too old for interesting travel. There, that’s an admission that’s hard for me to make. And Ellie would prefer a more settled life, though she never complains.”
“Perhaps you’ll tend the herb garden after all,” Claris said, and was rewarded by something between a laugh and a snort.
“You’d be well served, you hussy, if I set up as the local witch in truth. Begone. I’m consumed by a very biased account of the Commonwealth. I’m old enough to have known many who lived through that.”
Claris escaped, realizing that was true. The monarchy had been restored a century ago, so the rule of Cromwell would have been living memory in Athena’s youth. She wondered how the Perriam family had managed in the civil war. Had the two sides split in allegiance then? Perhaps she would read that family history and find out.
She returned to her room and asked Alice to find some ribbons to trim the cap. She rather liked the idea of being flighty.
Then she went to find her husband. They had much to discuss about the running of the manor, and the sooner that was done, the sooner he’d be gone. The footman told her that he’d gone to the stables with the twins, so she went outside, startled by the brightness of the day. The ivy would definitely have to go.
She walked around the house, choosing the direction that avoided the memorials. Something else that needed to be attended to, but how could they be removed with respect?
A gardener and a lad were pruning back dying growth. It was that time of year, with winter on the far horizon. She paused to speak to them, but again, they seemed uneasy, even surly.
They’d come to know her in time. She carried on toward the brick buildings that must be the stable. As she came close she saw the twins in the field alongside.
They were on their ponies, a groom alongside each. Perriam was giving a steady stream of instructions. Postures changed, hands moved. Her brothers were intent on his every word, so she halted before she distracted them. He was allowing them only to walk their ponies in a circle. She’d feared they’d be racing at a gallop from the first.
He is a good man.
The thought startled her and she resisted it, but she forced herself to be fair. There�
��d been no need for him to be so quick to provide the ponies, nor any need for him to begin the boys’ lessons today. He was doing his best by them, and probably meant the same by her.
For the first time she imagined her situation if the Perriam involved had been a man like Giles. All very well to feel that she’d have rejected the bargain, even with the advantages to her brothers. A man like Giles Perriam might have found ways to force her.
But then, her husband might have done the same if she’d not been persuadable. He’d been determined to secure Perriam Manor.
She must remember that. Beneath the complex curlicues, his writing was straight and clear. Beneath his airy nature lay steely determination.
Thus, she must match him in steel. She turned and headed back to the house to take up her duties. The kitchen garden wall lay to her left, and she decided to enter and inspect.
She had her hand on the gate latch when she heard running footsteps. She turned to see Perriam running toward her, loose hair flying in the wind, waistcoat unbuttoned, but at least with his coat on. He ran with boy-like ease and stopped at her side, scarcely out of breath. “You wanted something?”
“Shouldn’t you be with the twins?”
“I believe I’ve impressed good behavior on them. The grooms can do the rest. You intend to inspect the kitchen garden?”
“I did, but that can wait. We have many matters to discuss, I think.”
“You’re determined to drag me back inside the gloomy horror?”
“You so desperately wanted Perriam Manor.”
“Not for myself. Harvest’s in, so if we spread the word we could have men here ripping away ivy by this afternoon.”
Claris noted the “we,” but she heartily approved the plan. “By all means.”
“There’s an estate steward and I’ve summoned him. He should be here shortly.”
“Every moment a new surprise. What is he responsible for?”
“Running the estate, but he oversees the maintenance of the house as well. Parminter’s a reasonable enough man. Lives with his family on the edge of the estate by the village.”
As they entered the house she asked, “Do I have any other servants I don’t know of?”
“I don’t think so, but there’s a firm of lawyers in Slough and a bank there too. Come to the office and I’ll try to lay it out, but bear in mind that my knowledge is scant. I’d never been here until a few weeks ago, and my actual nights beneath this roof number eight.”
“But you’ve been trained to this life.”
“Devil a bit! I’m the youngest son of four and was firmly encouraged to interest myself elsewhere. I’ve never taken even an idle interest in estate management. You’re the answer to a prayer in all ways.”
“If you’d inherited the manor without hindrance, you’d have left it in the hands of the steward?”
“And rented it out. It’s never good to leave an estate without a family, and preferably one that spends a considerable time there.”
“Ma’am . . . ?”
Claris turned to one side. They were passing the kitchen and the cook was curtsying.
“I was wondering if you had requests for the meals today, ma’am.”
Another responsibility she’d forgotten.
“Of course. Do you have any favorites, Mr. Perriam?”
“Mistress Wilcock knows them and does them very well,” he said, charming as always.
“Then why not follow my husband’s preferences for today,” Claris said. “I’ll draw up some suggestions for the future.”
The cook curtsied again. “Very well, ma’am. And may I say again what a pleasure it is to be cooking for young gentlemen with eager appetites.”
Claris chuckled. “My brothers will certainly satisfy you in that respect, but don’t let them pester you. Feel free to send them on their way.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but they’re such good lads.”
As they walked on, Perriam said, “They are. They’re a credit to you. It can’t have been easy.”
He was being charming again, but Claris couldn’t deny a warm sense of pride. “Not always, no, but my father’s flaws lay mostly in neglect rather than action.”
When they entered the office, she said, “The very depths of gloominess!”
“It is rather, isn’t it? The window’s small and almost entirely covered, but even bright sunlight wouldn’t make it pleasant.”
The floor was bare wood in the familiar dark oak, and the shelves and cupboards were similar. Unlike the rest of the house, however, they seemed uncared for.
“The Beatrician line despised business?” Claris asked. At his look, she said, “I’ve been reading the family history.”
“Bizarre, isn’t it? I don’t believe my line has a similar volume, but I must check.” He was tidying himself, buttoning his waistcoat and tying back his hair. “As for this room, Cousin Giles left matters mostly in the hands of Parminter and his predecessor. Like me, he was a Town man.”
He took down a ledger and put it on one of the two plain desks. “This contains the recent household accounts. I glanced at them and they seem in order, but you’ll know better.”
He was neat, but still without a neckcloth. Deliberate? She was sure he’d seen the effect he could have on her. Deal with business and get rid of him.
She sat at the desk. “I know nothing of the running of a house like this, but I’ll learn. I’ll learn about the running of the estate too.”
“Going to take complete command, are you?” When she looked sharply at him, he added, “I have no objection.”
Claris folded her hands on the ledger. “May I ask about financial arrangements?”
“You may ask about anything.”
“How much of the estate income will you want?”
“None. My income is more than adequate for my life. I only ask that you don’t fall into deficit and want some of mine.”
Could he be serious?
He’d promised not to lie to her.
“Does the estate provide enough income to support itself?”
“I devoutly hope so. Ah, Parminter. Good day to you. My dear, this is the estate steward. Parminter, my wife.”
The stocky, gray-haired man bowed. “Welcome to Perriam Manor, ma’am.”
Claris inclined her head, assessing him. He seemed all solid worthiness, but she’d hold judgment. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Parminter. I also look forward to gaining a thorough understanding of the manor, house, and estate.”
A definite twitch at that, but only to be expected. The sliding glance at Perriam was more worrying. Parminter was checking the husband’s opinion, and perhaps even looking for amused condescension.
“My business will mostly be in Town,” Perriam said, “so my wife will have the responsibility here. As a first action, she wants the ivy stripped from the walls. Will it serve to simply put out a call?”
“As well as anything, sir.”
Parminter didn’t so much as glance at her.
“Do we have ladders?” Claris asked, forcing him to look her way.
“There are three or four in an outbuilding, ma’am.” He looked back to Perriam to ask, “You wish this done immediately, sir? I could ride around and set it going.”
“If you agree, my dear?” Perriam asked.
She gave him credit for including her, but as she agreed to the plan she recognized another reason to get rid of her husband. She’d not be true mistress of Perriam Manor until then.
Once Parminter left, Claris dismissed her husband and explored the ledgers and documents for herself. There were papers here covering centuries, but she studied only the recent ones. She wished she had something with which to compare the figures.
Was ninety-eight pounds a reasonable annual amount for the sale of excess produce from the home farm? Was seventy pounds a year an appropriate salary for Mr. Parminter? He also received sixpence a pound on timber sold from the estate’s woodlands. Was that fair? Was it too much?
Wood seemed to form a good part of the estate’s income, but it varied, with some years having a large felling and others small. Rents from tenant farmers came to nearly five hundred pounds a year, which seemed a huge amount, but she also saw from other entries how much it cost to maintain the house and estate.
Claris rested her tired eyes, remembering Perriam’s discussion with Farmer Barnett. Barnett had been correct in one way, for it seemed Giles Perriam had left most of the management of the manor to others and pocketed the profits. Perriam had been right too, however. Landowning was complex, and anyone who wanted to have the oversight of it would work hard.
The details choked her brain and the amounts of money involved frightened her, but she would be a responsible landowner.
For now, she’d leave further reading until the ivy was cleared to let in more light. Given the one small window, she might need better light even then.
One of her father’s few indulgences had been a branch of candles with a polished reflector to focus the light. That had been left at the rectory, but she could acquire a new one. No, a number of them. There should be one or more in the library, and she’d like one in her bedchamber. Old habits made her bite her lip at such indulgence, but she could afford it now.
She searched drawers until she found writing paper, then laid a sheet on the desk. She found a pen, mended it, dipped it in an inkpot and began a list.
Reflecting candles.
Requested foods from Athena and Ellie.
Riding clothes for the twins.
A valet for the twins.
A tutor for the twins.
She brushed the end of the quill against her lips, wondering where they would take their lessons. They could use the library, but that would prevent others from enjoying it much of the time.
There might be a schoolroom in the unexplored children’s area of the house. She didn’t like the thought of going there, but she couldn’t leave a part of the house untouched forever like a mausoleum.
She must do something about the smothered babes.
She added “schoolroom” to her list and underlined it. That was the most urgent need.
She capped the ink and stood.
What better time than now?
