Silver Enchantress

by Patricia Rice

  The old lord looked up at once at the demanding tone of her voice. Their eyes met with understanding. Amazing, how words could be spoken without tongues.

  “A healthy boy. After all the damned girls I’ve begotten, to have a grandson who is a bastard. . .” Indignation trailed off into the querulousness of despair.

  “I am sorry, sir.” Drake rose and opened one of the wardrobes to produce a flask, handing it to his friend. “The way Edmund talked, I felt certain he meant to marry Pamela.”

  Westley drank deeply of the liquor and waved away Drake’s apologies. “Regrets will not bring her back. I spoiled her. I never provided her with the guidance a child needs. That is why I am here. I’ll not have my only grandson grow up like his mother. Nor his father. I can’t raise him. I can’t see Edmund raising him. He’s a Neville, whether you like it or not, Drake. I want to come to terms with you.”

  Drake frowned, but Eileen answered unhesitatingly, “Bring the child here, my lord. The nursery is well staffed. You know he will be brought up as our own.”

  Drake exploded. “Now wait one minute! I’ll not have my son endure what I have. Edmund’s brat is likely to turn out a bigger bully than Edmund. He is already some months older than Richard. I’ll not have my son. . .”

  Westley pounded the floor with his ebony cane. “Hear me out, damn you! Don’t you think I’ve thought of all that?”

  Eileen tugged at Drake’s robe, forcing him to turn his glare toward her. “You will teach him better than your father did. It does not have to be the same. Would you have your own kin raised by strangers?”

  “Eileen, you do not understand. . .” Drake began to protest, but Westley gave him no time to argue.

  “I understand, Sherburne. A bastard can’t inherit titles and estates. The situation is even worse than Edmund’s. But I think we can repair that. The king is sympathetic to tales of ungrateful children, and he owes me a favor or two in dealing with that brat of his. We need only persuade Edmund to acknowledge the boy, and the king will see that my lands pass to my grandson. He will grow up knowing my estate is his; I will see to that. That should relieve the worst of the competition, shouldn’t it?”

  Drake paced beside the bed, but Eileen refused to let him wiggle out of duty. “I would not have any child raised as I was, Drake,” she said.

  Drake ran his hand through his hair and smiled ruefully. “Does this mean you will stay here?” he demanded.

  Compromise, she understood, and reluctantly, Eileen nodded.

  Victoriously, he captured her hand and turned back to his neighbor. “I think I can help you in persuading Edmund to acknowledge the child. If you are willing to take responsibility for teaching him his heritage, I am willing to raise him with my own.”

  Lord Westley took a deep breath and rose from the chair to extend his hand to Drake. “I’m damned sorry to lose you for a son-in-law, Sherburne, but I’ll rest easier knowing my grandson is in good hands.”

  Gnarled fingers clutching hat and walking stick, he turned to Eileen. His powdered wig was long and full in an outdated style, and his clocked stockings and red heels also bespoke an earlier age, but his eyes reflected the youthfulness of his mind. “I remember your mother well, child. If you are as much like her as you appear, every male who meets you will love you. I could not ask for more for my grandson.”

  Eileen laughed at this blatant flattery. “And if your grandson resembles you, my lord, he will turn my head with pretty phrases and grow up quite spoiled. Try your attentions on my mother. She should be below somewhere and will enjoy reminiscences. Bring your grandson as soon as he may travel. I am eager to make his acquaintance.”

  The old man’s eyes glowed with pleasure, and he bowed himself out. Drake dropped to the bed beside Eileen and pushed her down into the mattress.

  “You are a devilishly wicked brat, my lady,” he murmured without wrath.

  “And you are too handsome to be allowed out of the house,” Eileen returned, sliding her hands about his shoulders. “And I love you quite insanely.”

  “Quite,” he agreed, before pressing his kiss upon her until she writhed with ecstasy and begged for more.

  Drake reluctantly took his leave some days later, hoping that with Westley’s aid Edmund could be removed to the continent or given an appointment in the colonies.

  “Lord Westley’s grandson will be arriving soon. Must you leave now?” Eileen, too, was reluctant for this parting. Drake’s restlessness made her uneasy, but she still did not feel confident about inquiring into his concerns. He was a man with needs she could not ease. She feared learning the worst if she pressed too hard.

  Dressed in a flowing gown of brown velvet with gold lace and inserts, Eileen had moved from bed to chair where she could look out upon the chilly gardens. She had insisted on dressing this morning, but she had been forbidden to walk further than her chambers.

  Drake caressed her cheek. “If I do not go now, the weather may prevent my leaving later. You will be safe here with Michael and Diane and your mother, and I will return as soon as I may be permitted. I have plans. . . but you must recover first.”

  Interest flared and she caught his hand. “What plans? Will you tell me?”

  Drake smiled and kissed her forehead. “Many plans. Some you will not like, but must endure. Others, I will need your help in. Think of the cottage you wanted, but reconcile yourself to enjoying it only a few months of the year. I am considering taking my place in the House.”

  Eileen widened her eyes in shock. It would mean living without him or living in London much of the year. She wished to do neither, but vaguely, she comprehended his need to press for changes. Even her mother had spoken harshly of the unjust laws preventing Catholics from owning land or voting. Drake would want his say in such a matter and many others. Her lack of education would prevent her from being the hostess his position in London would require, but teasingly, she asked, “Can we build a cottage in London?”

  Drake laughed. “I shall begin looking for land while I am there, but I will not promise trees,” he warned.

  “Promise to introduce me to Hogarth and we have a deal,” Eileen promised.

  “A deal it is.”

  He kissed her and was gone, leaving her to watch his departure with trepidation. For all her husband’s lightheartedness, she knew something troubled him. If she were well, she would ride after him, but she could not do such things any longer. She had responsibilities of her own now, and the simple days of freedom had disappeared. The wail of two babes reminded her of that should she ever forget.

  Chapter 28

  March, and Drake still had not returned home, but his letters overflowed with thoughts and plans and love as he described the people and events around him. Eileen clung to the pages of closely spaced writing and read and reread his words with delight, unable to believe he could reveal so much of himself with just the scratch of a pen. She could not doubt his faithfulness as he described the pain of his lonely bed and his desire to be with her. His words too exactly duplicated her own feelings.

  Drake’s sister ran through a complicated drill on the harpsichord, asserting her presence as Eileen perused the letter for the third time.

  Eileen glanced up and laughed at the expression on her sister-in-law’s face. “I am being selfish. I believe these pages are meant for you as much as for me.” She handed over the pages describing Drake’s interview with the Duke of Newcastle and his argument over the current conditions of agriculture. The pages describing Drake’s search for a suitable site for a cottage and his loneliness she kept to herself.

  Diane only glanced at the pages, preferring to ask rather than read. “Does he say anything of Michael? I know we do not need Drake’s permission, but it would be so much easier. . .” Her voice dropped wistfully.

  “Has Michael actually asked Drake’s permission, then?” Too wrapped in her own affairs these last weeks, she had not taken heed of others. That Michael and Diane were very much in love and would soon marry,
she had taken for granted.

  “They have spoken of it, I know.” Her fingers produced a melancholy tune.

  Eileen watched Diane with interest. Normally serene golden features had taken on a hint of rose and a sparkle of excitement that had not been there last spring. Her caustic tongue had mellowed, too, and just the mention of Michael’s name brought a glow to her eyes.

  “You and Michael have spoken of children?” Eileen inquired.

  Diane reddened. “Rather more than that.”

  “I don’t suppose I dare inquire too closely into the meaning of that?” Eileen asked, laughing.

  Diane smiled with relief. “Not if you write every word we share to Drake.”

  Eileen shook her head vigorously. “Never. I have no talent with pens and too much respect for silence. You want children, then?”

  Diane smiled with relief at being able to speak of what was so close to her heart. “Yes, I want Michael’s child. He worries. He has some idea of what you went through, but I have convinced him it is because you are much smaller than I and because you carried twins. He’s a skeptic and has talked with my physician, but I think we have convinced him.”

  Eileen returned Diane’s grin with unmitigated delight. She wanted her friends to be as happy as she, and Michael and Diane deserved the best.

  “He has been to your room, hasn’t he?” Eileen accused delightedly. At Diane’s embarrassed nod she whooped, “Drake will kill him!”

  Diane managed to laugh and look worried at the same time. “I had to know it would be all right,” she insisted. “I didn’t want Michael shackled to a crippled, useless wife for the rest of his life.”

  “Useless? My word, Diane! You have a thousand more uses than I ever did! You run this entire household, you deal with the tenants and the servants, you play beautifully and your accomplishments keep everyone entertained. There is no end to your talents. Michael would be glad for any one of them.”

  At this recitation Eileen grew worried. “Does this mean Michael will take you away from here? Please tell me it will not or I’ll have to discourage this match at once.”

  Diane laughed. “Then I do not dare tell you such a thing. I have been totally compromised and must marry him.” She quieted and regarded her more seriously. “I would think, though, that you would rather be mistress of your own household. I have thought about moving to the dower house when Drake returns. You will want to make changes, and I don’t want to hinder you.”

  These past weeks Eileen had given considerable thought to her uneasy position as marchioness. Drake and Diane made it seem quite simple, but she was not as yet receiving guests. What would happen when all Drake’s noble friends and relatives arrived to look over his improbable new wife? She had never felt so fettered in her life, but she hid her discomfort behind laughter.

  “Changes! May the heavens preserve us! I wouldn’t even know what to change. Do you wish Drake to think me a total incompetent? I know you and Michael might prefer a place of your own, but I beg you not to leave for my sake. I will learn if I must.”

  “But you would much rather paint and play with the children!” Diane said, understanding Eileen’s discomfiture; “I must admit to relief. I love Sherburne, and Michael is very proud. If we had to leave, he would make me live on his wages. This way, I can convince him I’m earning our keep while we live in comfort. Is that so very selfish?”

  Eileen breathed a sigh of relief. “Supremely practical, as I see it. Michael enjoys managing the estate and Drake scarcely has time for it. And while you’re managing the household, I can be your legs. I can run after the children and visit the tenants and go to the village and all those things I love that are difficult for you. I think it is perfect!”

  With the excitement of their futures to discuss, neither woman noticed the entrance of Lady de Lacy until the crackle of the letter in her hand caught their attention.

  Eileen glanced up and indicated the seat beside her. “Join us, Mother. You have received another of those letters from Ireland, haven’t you?”

  Elizabeth folded and unfolded the pages as she sat down. Her eyes had the faraway look that had haunted them these last weeks.

  “Yes, another letter,” she murmured. “While you two are discussing your futures, I must think of my own. Does his lordship mention when he will return?”

  “Your future is here, with us, of course,” Eileen replied, perplexed. “Drake does not give the date of his return, but you know he welcomes you here. And if the noise of the children annoys you, Aunt Emma will be happy. . .”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “The children are a delight and I adore them, but I cannot live what remains of my life through you. Now that Peter cannot interfere, I must return to Ireland. I have friends there who risked their lives for me. And Richard’s home awaits me.”

  The happiness in her mother’s face prevented Eileen’s objections. “You will live there alone?” she asked.

  Elizabeth unfolded the letter again. “There is some question as to the legality of my inheriting the estate, but I intend to fight for it. It means claiming Anglicanism, but that does not bother me. God is God, however He is worshiped. It is the result that matters. Richard had plans for those lands, and I wish to see them carried out. Now that you have no need of them, I can see no obstacle.”

  Eileen opened her eyes wide. “You mean to sell the land and build a school?”

  “I do. What better way can I thank those who helped us than by helping their children?”

  That “us” grated on Eileen’s nerves. How had she been helped by being left, unwanted, in poverty, to raise herself as best she might? “You have learned how I came to be in England?”

  Elizabeth smiled sadly and patted her hand. “You must not blame Meg too harshly, my love. She was old and not quite sound of mind. If she had not found you, you may have bled to death. As it was, no one was quite certain what became of you. Meg was out of her senses by the time the priest found her. Her wanderings gave him reason to wonder, but he could never be certain.”

  Eileen shook her head in bewilderment. “I do not understand. Why did this Meg not take me to the priest or someone who would help me? How did I come to be with Nan?”

  “It can only be conjecture, but Meg had two daughters. An unmarried one worked at a neighboring estate. The other married and went to live with her husband in Cornwall. I have asked that inquiries be made, but so far all that is known is that the unmarried daughter left Ireland shortly after—” she hesitated, then catching herself, continued—“your father died. The servants who worked with her heard that she died some time after reaching England. I suspect that Nan is the married daughter and never knew who you were, other than that you were her sister’s child. She raised you as one of her own. It was the best she could do.”

  Eileen entwined her fingers in her lap. She had contrived to forget those years, but she understood now more than she had as a child. Nan had tried to raise a mute, unloving hoyden even when she had little enough for her own. Nan’s only fault lay in marrying the wrong man. There were no recriminations to be made. Someday, perhaps she could find Nan and offer her gratitude.

  A sharp rap at the door diverted them. Every visitor could mean a message from Drake and London. Diane bade the footman enter.

  The liveried servant appeared nervous as he drew open the double doors to announce their guest. “Mr. Edmund to see Lady Sherburne.”

  Diane gasped and Eileen’s fingers flew to her lips. Surely, it could not be. . . But it was. Edmund loomed just behind the frightened footman. He shoved the door open farther and entered. Garbed in long waistcoat and buff overcoat, his knee boots polished to a black gleam, his hair queued and powdered, he carried the air of a respectable gentleman. Only the inscrutable depth of his dark eyes gave cause for uneasiness—and prior knowledge of his treachery.

  Edmund bowed as the servant closed the door behind him. “My ladies.” His eyebrow rose in the direction of Elizabeth. “I do not believe I have had the pleas
ure.”

  Without the power to bodily remove the traitor, Eileen had no choice but to make the introductions. Perhaps he had learned his lesson and was here to make amends. She would have to pray for the best.

  “Mama, this is Drake’s cousin, Edmund Neville. My mother, Lady de Lacy.”

  The name “de Lacy” hung in the air, and Edmund’s self-assurance faltered. He recovered, however, and made a gallant bow. “My pleasure, my lady.” With aplomb he turned to Eileen. “I have been told my son is here. Would it be too much to ask that I might see him?”

  Eileen’s heart froze. Despite his air of aristocratic elegance, Edmund was not to be trusted. He had every right to see his son, but not like this, not without the protection of Drake and Michael and Lord Westley. He had timed his arrival too well, when there was none to obstruct him.

  She smiled and gestured for him to have a seat. “The children are with my aunt and uncle. Let me call for some tea and perhaps they will have returned by the time we’re done.”

  Diane and Elizabeth glanced at her with surprise but held their tongues. The Summervilles had not been there for a fortnight, and the babes were all asleep in their beds upstairs.

  Eileen rose and slipped out the door, ostensibly to call for tea although a signal from the bell on Diane’s chair would have brought servants running. She prayed Edmund would not think of that. As soon as the door closed behind her, she lifted her skirts and ran up the wide stairway to the upper-story bedrooms and nursery.

  Before she reached the top, she heard the salon doors sliding open again, and she knew Edmund watched from the hall below. It was too late to care; she flew along paneled corridors to the nursery.

  She burst in on the startled nursemaids. “Get the babies out of here. Hide them and send someone to bring Mr. Jasper home. Hurry!”

  The slow-witted wet nurse Lord Westley had hired for his grandson began to protest, but the young girl from the village gathered up Lord Richard and quieted his sleepy protest before reaching for Lady Isabel. Eileen grabbed the bouncing six-month-old Lord Westley had named George in honor of the king, but time had run out. Edmund entered the nursery behind her.