She thrust her needle into the pincushion with unnecessary vigor. “I don't want charity from you, Kinsford."
His eyes blazed. “You know it isn't charity. You're still angry with me for threatening to take the two of them from your care."
“And what if I am?” To her intense mortification, moisture glistened in her eyes. “You have all the power in this situation. You can reduce me to poverty with one careless decision. You can drive me to opening a dame school on a whim. I should hate operating a dame school. But I would do it. I would do it to maintain my household."
He sank onto the sofa beside her and captured her restless hands in his. “For God's sake, Clarissa, I have no intention of ruining you! If taking Aria and Will out of your care would ruin you financially, then you are in far too precarious a position for my liking."
“This has nothing to do with you! Nothing! I have managed all these years and I shall continue to manage.” She tried to withdraw her hands from his clasp, but he held firm.
“Listen to me!” He stared into her eyes, willing her to meet his gaze. “This is another matter I've been remiss in. It was my father who took advantage of yours. He knew Mr. Driscoll's penchant for gaming and played upon it. No, don't argue with me. He knew what he was doing. He wanted to add the Pennhurst land to his estate. There was no excuse for what he did. And I should have realized how desperate your circumstances were when you had to move to this cottage, to teach the local children how to draw and sing. I'll put money in the Funds for you that will give you a decent income, so that you'll be independent at least."
Clarissa shook her head with vigor. “No. If it hadn't been your father, Kinsford, it would have been someone else. I remember thinking, when I was only ten, that I would be lucky if I reached adulthood before we were impoverished.” She fought down the ache in her throat. “But my father was such a charming man, so full of life and humor and kindness. Strange, isn't it, that two such different men as our fathers have left us both with difficulties?"
“Not strange at all, probably. They both were excessive in some ways and that is what threatens the next generation.” He continued to hold her hands, more lightly now. “But your problem is easily solved, since it is merely financial."
“I can't accept money from you. I'm perfectly capable of earning enough to maintain my household."
Kinsford had no intention of forgetting the matter, but he was willing to let it go for the moment. He considered telling her of his suspicions about his sister, but decided against any revelation at the moment. “Aria is delighted to have Max. She plans to share him with you.”
Clarissa smiled and made a deprecatory gesture with her hands. “That's hardly necessary, but very sweet of her."
“Aria has some very endearing traits,” Kinsford said.
* * * *
Clarissa could not bring herself to resume work on mending the sheet after he had left. Her mind was in a turmoil. Despite his reassurances, her existence in the village felt suddenly precarious. And her own emotions were wildly erratic. One moment she felt as drawn to him as she had when he'd kissed her; the next she resolved to put any thought of him out of her mind, as any sensible spinster would do.
Unable to sit still, Clarissa donned a pelisse and set off for Mrs. Luden's shop. They were running low on candles with all the extra activity and guests in her small cottage. And it wouldn't hurt to have a tin of Aria's special biscuits.
Clarissa was startled and mortified when she dug in her purse for the proper coins to have Mrs. Luden say, “No, no. His lordship has taken care of it, Miss Driscoll. He gave me three guineas on account and said you were to have whatever you needed for your household, seeing as Lady Aria was there and making her accustomed demands."
The shopkeeper smiled with delight at the earl's witticism, but Clarissa could feel her cheeks become red with shame. “Nonsense,” she returned stoutly. “I am more than able to purchase a few extra candles and biscuits when I have a guest."
Seeing her upset, Mrs. Luden curled Clarissa's fingers back over the coins she was offering and said warmly, “Now don't spoil his generosity, dear. He can well afford it, and I could see it pleased him to have thought of it."
Clarissa wanted to tell her that she was not interested in pleasing the earl, but it would only have made Mrs. Luden uncomfortable. So she drew a deep breath, controlled her outrage, and smiled blandly at the shopkeeper. “Well, it was certainly more than thoughtful of Lord Kinsford,” she said mildly. “Lady Aria seems to be doing well, but she has certainly made no large demands upon me."
“I'm ever so glad to hear she's improving. You never know with that kind of fall.” Mrs. Luden's weathered face creased into a smile. “She's such a delightful child. And isn't it a rare treat to have all three of them home at once—the earl and both Master William and Lady Aria?"
“It most assuredly is."
Chapter Sixteen
Clarissa was furious. Though it was true that Lady Aria's demands on the household budget had been more severe than she had indicated to Mrs. Luden, and that she ordinarily relied on her lessons with the other neighborhood young quality as well to restore her coffers, it was unfathomable to her why Lord Kinsford had concluded that this was an appropriate way in which to relieve her distress. Surely the three guineas could have been sent with William as easily, directly to her, with a pleasant note about their intent to offset the expense of the sister's stay with her. Why would the earl embarrass her by actually leaving money with Mrs. Luden? And had he done it with any other merchant in the vicinity? Clarissa cringed at the thought.
Certainly she had indicated that she wouldn't accept charity from him, but there was a difference between his reimbursing her for legitimate expenses and his setting up a trust fund for her. Couldn't the man see that? What the devil was the matter with him? Clarissa, still in a rage when she returned home, went directly to the sitting room, where she kept paper and quill in the little escritoire she had brought from Pennhurst. In an ecstasy of exquisite fervor she penned:
My dear Lord Kinsford,
Herewith my invoice for five pounds which represents the expense to which I have gone on behalf of your sister. This sum includes the loss of income I have suffered from having Lady Aria in the house, as well as any medicines, extras duties for Meg, etc. I expect payment forthwith, and I expect you to withdraw any monies you may have distributed to local merchants (including Mrs. Luden) with all due haste.
Your most obedient servant,
Clarissa Driscoll
This missive she sent with one of the village lads, hoping the Kinsford Hall butler would supplement the barely adequate coin she was able to give him. Then she spent an hour with Lady Aria, who regarded her rather closely, but asked nothing except, “You seem a trifle agitated, Miss Driscoll. I do hope having me stay here is not disordering your life too badly. Would you rather I went home?"
“Not at all! I'm glad to have you as long as you feel the need to stay here, my dear.” Clarissa vigorously pushed back the sleeve of her gown which had caught on the arm of the rocking chair. “I'm sure Lord Kinsford is eager to have you home, however, and you do appear to be much better."
“Oh, yes, but not well enough to leave just yet,” Aria declared, alarmed. “Another day or two, I think. Just until I see if I have more episodes of— that problem."
This last was said in a dramatic whisper and Clarissa frowned. Was there something going on here that she was unaware of? She was about to pursue this possibility when Lady Aria sighed and said, “I believe I shall have a little nap now, Miss Driscoll. My head feels a little cottony and a nap will refresh me.
Clarissa rose and tucked her patient in snugly. “Of course. Perhaps you're doing too much in the way of watercolors too soon."
“Oh, but that's what keeps me from being bored,” Lady Aria assured her, turning her head on the pillow to make sure that her work-in-progress was not visible. It was, she had assured Clarissa, a surprise. Knowing the girl's penchant
for delightful but piercing portrayals, Clarissa felt she could well await the viewing.
* * * *
When Lord Kinsford presented himself for his evening visit to his sister, Clarissa was not available to him. Meg told him this with a rather nervous air, and Kinsford felt certain the lady of the house was merely hiding in her sitting room. Well, never mind. Her note had been quite explicit on the subject of what she expected and he had brought a purse with the required funds. “Perhaps I will see her before I leave,” he said, setting the purse on the hall table.
Meg did not reply and Kinsford raised his brows. “Does she intend to avoid me, then?” he asked.
“I'm sure I wouldn't know, my lord,” Meg replied stiffly.
Kinsford shrugged and took the narrow stairs two at a time. He found his sister working at a watercolor, which she pushed under a drawing pad as he entered the room. “What's this?” he teased. “A secret plot?”
Aria flushed and replied, “Not at all. It's just unfinished and I should like to finish it before anyone sees it.''
Their visit proceeded quite pleasantly until Kinsford happened to ask Aria if Betty was of some help to her. “For if she's in the way here, she must certainly come home.” He added wryly, “Miss Driscoll is quite put out enough with me, without the added burden of an unnecessary servant."
Aria's eyes filled with chagrin. “You cannot have put Miss Driscoll out of temper, Kinsford. She is the most accommodating soul on earth! Oh, I knew there was something this afternoon when she sat with me. She was quite distracted. Really, you are the most trying person I know.''
Making allowances for her indisposition, Kinsford reined in his own exasperation. “Don't fret about it, Aria. Miss Driscoll and I rub along tolerably well most of the time. I did something meant to be helpful and she misinterpreted my intent. We'll sort it out."
''Well, I certainly hope so,” his sister replied, mutinous. “And Will only came to see me once today."
“He went in to Bath for Mr. Alman,” Kinsford explained. He had begun to find himself restless and he rose to pace around the small room. “He promised to come first thing tomorrow. Has he told you that he's learning about estate business?"
“Yes, but it's so dreadfully dull,” Aria complained. “I wish he would talk of something else."
Kinsford grinned. “You would do well to pay attention, my dear. Will's enthusiasm might be inspiring. You could do worse than to understand a little of it yourself.”
“Pooh! Much good it would do me.” Aria had some talent at mimicry when she put her mind to it. Now she regaled her brother with an impression of Sir John the magistrate on learning of her newest accomplishment. In his horrified accents she said, “Listen to the girl! Thinks she knows what a drainage ditch is! What next? I suppose pigs will fly."
“I definitely think you're getting better,” Kinsford proclaimed. At her obvious apprehension, he added casually, “But it would no doubt be best for you to stay here a little longer. I'll be by in the morning to see you."
Aria's eyes widened. “Are you leaving so soon?” He had absently picked up a hairbrush from the dressing table, and now laid it back down. “You must be tired. It's late. Your mother sends her love."
“I suppose she's eager for me to be home,” Aria said, trying to delay him.
“Yes, very.” He bent to kiss her forehead. “I'll give her your love, shall I?"
“Please.” As he headed for the door, she said, “Alexander, you will sort out your disagreement with Miss Driscoll, won't you?"
“I'll certainly try."
Meg met him at the bottom of the stairs. It seemed to Kinsford that she had been stationed there. “Miss Driscoll is not available,” she said, even before he could ask.
“Well, it's important that I see her,” he returned in his most imperious voice. “There is a matter about Lady Aria that we must discuss this evening."
Meg looked torn. “Wait here, please,” she said finally, hastening off through the sitting-room door. When she returned, after a low rumble of voices which he could not make out, her cheeks were rosy and her eyes blinked uncertainly. “Miss Driscoll is not available. She said as how you could leave a message with me if there was something urgent. Otherwise, perhaps she would see you in the morning."
“Perhaps!” Kinsford very nearly ground his teeth. Suddenly a thought occurred to him that vexed him so badly he was almost unable to voice his suspicion. “Is there someone with her? Is that notorious cousin here?"
“Oh, no, sir,” Meg protested. “We haven't seen Mr. Traling in days, your lordship. Not for days!"
Her denial was adamant and apparently genuine, but Kinsford did not doubt for a moment that Miss Driscoll's servant would lie for her. He had heard no other voice—no male voice—come from the sitting room, but he did not trust that Steven Traling was not there. “I must and I will see Miss Driscoll,” he muttered, stomping over to the sitting-room door and throwing it open.
Meg regarded him with open-mouthed astonishment but made no move to stop him. How could she, after all? She was no match for his size and strength. And there was no certainty that he had any harm in mind for her mistress. She did protest, rather sharply, “Oh, no, your lordship, you mustn't. Miss Driscoll will not like it at all. She has most specifically said..."
By this time, of course, Kinsford was in possession of a view of the entire sitting-room, with Clarissa seated on the sofa, quite alone, knotting a fringe. Knotting a fringe! Well certainly she was far too busy to see him! Knotting a fringe, indeed!
Clarissa was instantly on her feet. This was adding insult to injury! Her eyes flashed with anger. “If this is the way you intend to behave, Kinsford, you may take your sister from my house this moment. I will not have my express instructions disregarded. You have been rude and high-handed and I don't have to tolerate such mannerless behavior."
“Forgive me,” he said, though he didn't sound at all penitent. “I didn't mean to alarm you.” She looked magnificent. He moved closer to her, capturing a hand unconsciously thrust out to ward him off. ‘'I had to see you."
The color rose further in her cheeks. “You, you, you. I don't care what you needed, Kinsford. This is my house, and I wished not to see you. You had my note. I think I have been perfectly clear about my wishes. Will you please let go of my hand?"
“I find I cannot,” he said regretfully. “It seems to belong in mine. Haven't you noticed that?"
Clarissa stared at him. “You have lost your reason, Kinsford. That's the only explanation for this kind of behavior.” She tugged unsuccessfully to release her hand. “And I thought it was Lady Aria who was disturbed."
“You are quite the most attractive woman I know,” he murmured, lifting her hand to his lips. “I'm sorry about the money. That was foolish of me, but you seemed intent on refusing everything from me."
''I've told you exactly how much you owe,” Clarissa said, watching with bemusement as he continued to press kisses on each of her fingers. “And you've taken care of it in the purse you brought.”
“Oh, the money,” he said dismissively, turning her now-passive hand over and placing a gentle kiss on the tender palm. “We don't need to talk about the money, Clarissa. We need to talk about us."
“Us.” Clarissa felt a tremor run down her spine. “Really, you are being unpardonably foolish.” She heard the sitting-room door close, but didn't bother to glance in that direction. Her gaze was entirely captured by the earl's intense expression. “You've forgotten who I am. I'm not that girl by the stile anymore, Alexander. I'm a spinster, without position in county society any longer, without a portion."
“That doesn't matter,” he said, capturing her second hand. “I know who you are. I've come to know you over this past week. And yes, you're the girl by the stile, the goddess of spring, and you're a village spinster, and you're a remarkable woman.” He ran his lips along her hand, kissing the crook near her thumb. “You're full of life and love and charm and eccentricity. You're the only woman
I can imagine spending my life with."
“Spending your life with,” she repeated, dazed. His lips were making her feel quite warm and vibrant. There was a catch in her throat when she said, “You've had a distressing week. Next week, next month, when you return to London, it will seem quite different. I will return to being a dowdy, worthy teacher of drawing and pianoforte. You have quite a different life in London."
His entranced eyes glowed warmly. “A very lonely life, Clarissa. Without a woman to argue the merits of the bills I carry before the Lords and partake of her meals with me and share my bed. I had hardly realized what a very dull and unsatisfactory arrangement it was.”
“Because it wasn't unsatisfactory,” she protested, almost unable to breathe when she heard his words. “You just think that now. The feeling will go away. Time will dim it, as it did before.''
“No.” The decided nature of his answer spoke volumes. “The feeling never went away. I ignored it. I refused to allow it access to my heart. But it never went away. It was there waiting for me when I saw you again.” He drew the shape of her face with his thumb. “Your precious face.” His fingers brushed softly across her lips. “Your sweet lips."
“Alexander.” Clarissa found she could say no more as his head bent toward hers. His mouth touched hers lightly at first, skimming across her lips, tasting, giving. And then he pressed harder, asking, receiving. She felt her body alight, her lips alive. This was what she had missed, all these years. The sensation of being both whole and shattered, burning and shivering, ecstatic and yet earthly solid.
His arms were around her, his body pressed against hers, his very breath invading her life. She ached for him. “This,” he whispered close to her ear, “is passion. This is what you and I can have. This fire is for just the two of us, Clarissa, to burn brightly and consume, and yet be an ember to fan into flame again and again. Because we were always meant to be together."
The Village Spinster Page 15
