“Mister Ruark, sit down please,” she said, placing the platter.
Two large glasses of cold milk were poured by Charlotte and placed beside their plates as Ruark slipped into the chair next to his wife. As they ate, the conversation warmed again until Shanna found herself laughing with the rest of them. Ruark’s easy wit joined theirs, and to Jeremiah’s delight, he was soon relating the riotous tale of a Scottish hunt. It was a pleasant time, and, strangely, Shanna felt a part of the family. She wondered yet if it could not be true. Perhaps Ruark was some distant cousin, some kin? Captain Beauchamp had denied the fact. Or had he? It was something to think on.
Well after the hour of eleven, when the family began to drift away to their rooms, Shanna rose from the table and said good night to the father and Nathanial, who remained standing near the hearth. Ruark started to get to his feet, but George rested his hand on his shoulder and pressed him back into the chair.
“You were telling me of this stallion, and there is much I would ask. Stay a while.”
Ruark’s gaze followed Shanna out; then the door swung closed behind her. The way was dark for Shanna, lit only by a candle burning on the sideboard in the dining room, and in the hall, the only radiance came from the lantern from the drawing room. There, in the shadows of the foyer, Shanna stood before the small square panes of crystal that composed the larger window, attracted by the sight of the full moon. Its pale light streamed through the half-naked branches of the giant oaks on the front lawn.
The creaking of the kitchen door interrupted her reverie, and Shanna half turned as Nathanial came striding down the hall. The man caught her movement, paused a moment, then came toward her.
“Shanna,” he smiled in the meager light. “I thought you would be in bed by now.”
“I was admiring the view,” she murmured somewhat apologetically.
He peered out the window over the top of her head at the breathtaking scene. “You see with the eye of an artist,” he remarked.
Shanna gave a soft chuckle. “Aye, I’ve wanted to be that, too.”
“Would you care to talk?” he invited.
Shanna leaned against the window frame to further contemplate the wintry night. “About what, sir?”
The answer was slow in coming. “Anything.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Whatever would please you.”
“And what do you think would please me?”
“Mister Ruark,” he said softly.
She searched for some hint of displeasure or contempt in his shadowed face, but only a gentle smile met her inquiring eyes.
“I cannot deny it,” she whispered and stared out the window again, twisting the gold band on her finger. “You saw us before. You may not approve, but I love him—and I carry his child.”
“Then why this farce, Shanna?” His voice was low and gentle as he questioned. “Would the truth be so pitiful?”
“We are trapped in it,” she sighed dejectedly. “He cannot claim me for other reasons, and I’ve yet to find a way to set aside my father’s wrath.” She shook her head and stared down at her hands. “I cannot ask your word or vow, for that would make you party to my deceit. I can only depend upon your discretion. The day rapidly approaches when it will all be out.”
A long pause ensued before Nathanial spoke again. “You may rely upon my discretion, Shanna, but there is this that I would say.” He drew a deep breath. “I think the both of you do all of us a grave discredit. Do you see your father as some cruel ogre? Would he punish you for your love? Do you see about you a host of enemies, or would you find naught but friends and allies waiting to help you? ‘Tis a sad report that I and mine would leave a lady in distress and not raise our voices, yea our arms, in her defense. I dare say your father would rise to your defense if you declared your love. Do you think him so doddering with age that he has forgotten the fires of youth? I find Orlan Trahern to be most reasonable, yet he had a spirit of fire of his own.”
Nathanial took several steps toward the stairs and turned back to her again.
“Aye, I think you both do us ill. But I shall await your revelation as you have said, in your own good time.” He held out a hand to her. “Come, Shanna, let me see you to your room. The hour is late.”
He laughed softly, and Shanna felt his good humor infecting her. “I wonder how long either of you can hold your secrets.”
Chapter 26
PALE SUNLIGHT STREAMED IN through filmy underdrapes and warmed the room with its midmorning brightness. In half-awakened pleasure Shanna stirred in the wide bed and lazily opened her eyes. A bit of color beside her on the pillow caught her eye, and she lifted her head to see a single dark red rose on her pillow. She raised the flower and tested its fragrance as she lay back and admired the fragile beauty of it. The thorns had been carefully removed from the long stem.
“Oh, Ruark,” she breathed, smiling.
The impression on the pillow beside her own gave her to know that he had been there beside her in the night. With a low, happy laugh Shanna snuggled the pillow to her breast. But she tossed it wide as a soft rap abruptly sounded on the door. At her call Hergus came in.
“Good morn’n, lass,” the maid greeted cheerfully. “Did ye sleep well?”
Shanna bounced from the bed and stretched like a contented feline. “Aye, very. But I am starving.”
Hergus looked at her suspiciously. “That, lass, is an awesome sign.”
Shanna shrugged innocently. “Whatever do you mean?”
Hergus busied herself laying out garments from the trunk. “I think ye know. The way ye’ve taken pains to avoid me seeing ye in the altogether, I think ye ought to be telling Mister Ruark he’s going to be a father.”
“He knows,” Shanna replied quietly and met the woman’s astounded stare. “You guessed rightly. I’m going to have his child.”
“Ooooh, naaaay,” the servant groaned. “What are ye going to do?”
“The only thing that can be done. Tell my father.” Even now, the thought of doing that brought a chill of dread to Shanna’s heart. “I hope he will not be too angry.”
“Huh,” Hergus grunted. “Ye can bet he’ll see yer Mister Ruark gelded good and proper.”
Shanna whirled and faced the woman with green lights of rage in her eyes. “Say no more to me of what’s good and proper. What’s good and proper is me loving Ruark, having his child.” She stamped her foot to emphasize her words. “I will not stand for another slur against my Ruark, from no one!”
Hergus knew when she had reached the limits of Shanna’s patience and carefully changed the subject. As she helped her mistress dress, conversation seemed appropriate and she found it hard to keep her silence.
“The men have eaten breakfast and gone, all except Sir Gaylord. He seems much attracted to Miss Gabrielle.”
Shanna scoffed. “The greedy fop. He’ll find himself a rich wife yet. I must warn Gabrielle.”
“No need,” Hergus giggled behind her hand. “She set him back on his heels. She told him that she wouldn’t have his hands on her and to mind where he put them in the future.”
“Then I suppose he’ll be after me again,” Shanna heaved a disheartened sigh. “Perhaps we can find him some doddering old widow with a heavy stick to keep him in line.”
Hergus raised her shoulders in a shrug. “He doesna seem to like the older ones. But a fine eye he has for the bonnie lasses. Why, passing through Richmond he nearly broke his neck craning it out the coach to watch a pretty young thing skittering across the road.” She sniffed loudly and lifted her nose primly in the air. “I wouldna have him.”
Shanna’s lovely brows drew into a thoughtful frown. “I wonder if he’s convinced the Beauchamps to put money in his shipyard. They might agree just to get rid of him.”
“Not likely,” Hergus chuckled. “I passed the knight in the hall this very morn talking with that fine Captain Beauchamp. The captain didna seem to be too taken with the idea.”
“Good,” Shanna smiled. “Perhaps he’
ll soon leave, then.” It would be better if he weren’t around when she spoke to her father.
When Shanna descended the stairs Amelia called to her from the drawing room door. “Come join us, Shanna. I’ll have a tray fetched for you here and a pot of tea.”
Charlotte and Gabrielle played a last tinkling melody on the harpsichord before they rose and came to sit in the chairs beside the settee where Shanna took a place.
“The men left early this morning to show your father around, and it’s been so quiet in the house with them all gone,” Amelia laughed. “I think I could hear a feather drop.”
A loud crash seemed to punctuate her words, and the ladies turned to stare in amazement at the cause. A serving girl, standing at the door of the drawing room, gaped down in horror at the spilled tray at her feet. Beside her, Gaylord testily dusted his satin coat and lacy jabot.
“Addlepated twit! Be more careful next time,” he snapped. “Rushing about like that you could have ruined my coat.”
Helplessly the girl looked at Mrs. Beauchamp and twisted her thin hands in distress, her small chin beginning to quiver and her huge eyes brimming with a rush of tears.
“No need to fret, Rachel,” Amelia soothed kindly and went to help the tiny maid pick up the shattered pieces of the china teapot and plate. Handing her the last piece, Amelia dusted her hands on her handkerchief and watched the servant make her way very carefully across the hall toward the small dining room. Then the mistress of the manor turned with a deliberateness that bespoke of her authority.
“Sir Gaylord, while you are in this house you must remember not to display your criticism of the less fortunate. I will not stand for it. Rachel was indentured before she came to work for us and abused. She has not been with us long, but she is a good girl and as her services are valuable to me, I wouldn’t want her to leave because a guest of ours was needlessly harsh to her.”
“Madam, are you taking me to task for my manners?” Gaylord inquired in astonishment. “Madam, I come from one of the finest families in England, and I know how to deal with hirelings.” He looked down his nose at her. “The magistrate, Lord Gaylord, you might know of him. He is my father.”
“Indeed?” Amelia smiled tolerantly. “Perhaps, then, you know the Marquess, my husband’s brother?”
Gaylord’s jaw dropped sufficiently, and much satisfied with his reaction, Amelia swept around with a swish of silk and moved to take her place again among the three smiling ladies.
“The Marquess!” Gaylord stammered and came a step nearer. “The Marquess de Beauchamp of London?”
Amelia raised her eyebrow lazily and regarded him. “Is there any other? I wasn’t aware of it.” She motioned Rachel in; the girl cautiously made a wide path around Sir Gaylord. “Now, ladies, where were we?”
“You were marvelous, mama,” Gabrielle cried with delicious enthusiasm when the man had retired from the room.
“It was a wicked thing I did,” Amelia confessed. She shrugged girlishly, and her laughter sparkled in the room. “But just the same, it felt good. The way Gaylord ordered Mister Ruark away from our table last night, a body would think he’s made himself squire here.”
“Nathanial said he heard that Sir Gaylord’s father was in Williamsburg visiting,” Charlotte announced, taking a cup from Amelia. “I wonder if he’s a boor like his son.”
Then her dark eyes turned, almost worried-looking, to Shanna, who had suddenly stopped stirring her tea. Beneath the woman’s stare Shanna quickly bent her attention to her plate, afraid her distress might be noted. She could only consider how she might escape the house to warn Ruark that Hanging Harry was close enough to be dangerous.
“My goodness, Shanna, that was rude of me,” Charlotte apologized. “I should allow that you might like the man. Gaylord did say this morning at the table that you and he were close to being betrothed.”
Shanna choked on a buttered muffin. “Me?” She swallowed some tea to help the crumbs go down and shook her head in a definite manner. “I assure you ‘tis his own wishing. I gave him my answer,”—she rubbed her wrist with the memory—“and it was most certainly a refusal.”
“Then why should he continue to press you, Shanna?” Gabrielle asked. “He hasn’t even cast a glance toward me since this morning, which truly relieves me, but for a few moments today one might have sworn he was ardently in love with me. If you have told him nay, then why does he speak of your betrothal?”
Shanna could only shrug. Then Charlotte broke out into amused laughter.
“Perhaps Shanna was a little more delicate with her refusal, Gabby dear. ‘Tis rather deflating to any gentleman to be told by a young lady that he’s old enough to be her father and to be reminded of his paunch besides.”
Shanna giggled in her cup. “And I thought my answer was brutal. If his cheek doesn’t smart, my hand still does.”
“Oh, gracious,” Gabby beamed. “Did you really? Good for you, Shanna. But why does he still pester you? You would think he’d give up?”
“I suppose Mister Ralston informed him that my father wanted me to marry a man of title,” Shanna replied. “No doubt Gaylord still hopes I will be influenced by his knighthood.”
“But the squire doesn’t seem to care for the man, either,” Amelia responded. “In fact, he became quite angry when Gaylord told Mister Ruark to leave and eat with the servants. You missed something of a row, my dear, with your father declaring he’d take his dinner with his bondsman, and George telling everyone he’d be master in his own house and invite whomever he would to our table, and there was poor Nathanial trying to soothe everyone’s temper and not accomplishing much at that. ‘Twas a full quarter-turn of the hand before any of us realized Mister Ruark had gone. But George and the squire haven’t given Gaylord a civil word since.”
“Then, perhaps, ‘tis best I left when I did,” Shanna remarked wryly.
It was a short time later when Shanna found herself alone with the eldest Beauchamp woman and wondered at the excuses the two others had given as they hurried from the room. Through the front windows Shanna could see Gaylord stalking across the yard, his hands folded behind his back, his head down, as if he pondered some deep subject.
“I suppose, Shanna, that you’ve heard many tales that impress you with the idea that Virginia is a savage land.” Amelia chuckled at her nod. “Aye, ‘tis savage, but I’ve never regretted coming here to build our home. We lived in a log cabin until we could clear the land and build this house. We only had Nathanial then, and we were but children ourselves. My parents were fearful. They wanted me to stay behind in England until George could make a home for us. They thought he would give up and come back. And he has often said that he might have if I hadn’t come with him.”
“You have a lovely home, Madam Beauchamp, and a lovely family.”
“Oh, we’ve had many hardships that we might not have faced in England,” Amelia continued. “But I think we’re better people because of the troubles we’ve shared—and stronger, perhaps. I could not abide a foppish son like Gaylord. My own, perhaps, would be out of place at court, but I can vouch for the fact that they are men and do not depend on another’s riches to give them a soft bed. And because I love them, I desire their happiness. ‘Tis only natural for a mother to want the best for her children. So far, they’ve been blessed in finding that one they have needed in this world. God willing, Gabrielle and Jeremiah will do the same.”
Absently Shanna sipped her tea, wondering if Ruark’s mother would accept her with the same warmth and graciousness Amelia displayed toward Charlotte. Charlotte could almost be envied, but then the woman who had raised Ruark had to be someone special, too.
“Are you comfortable in my son’s room?” Amelia inquired softly.
“I feel very much at home there,” Shanna stated truthfully. “And I suppose that in the summer the room is quite cool with that huge tree right out the back to give it shade. Where is your other son?”
“Would you care for more tea, my dear?”
>
“Only a half cup, please. Thank you.”
“He’s here off and on.”
“I’d like to meet him sometime.”
Amelia glanced at her young guest. “I believe you will, my dear. I believe you will.”
A short time later, Shanna came down the stairs dressed in a deep green velvet riding habit that lent to her eyes a darkness of hue very close to emerald. Gabrielle was just coming in the front door.
“Is there a path where I might ride and not get lost?” Shanna asked.
The woman responded by leading her toward the back of the house. There, they could gaze out from the windows upon the rolling hills that rose beyond their place.
“There’s a trail that leads up to the high valley by that big oak.” Being a little taller, Gabrielle gazed down at Shanna and added casually with a half shrug, “You’ll probably see Mister Ruark up there with Jeremiah.”
Shanna relaxed into the rhythm of Jezebel’s gait and felt the exhilarating breeze as the tawny grass raced by beneath the horse’s hooves. The wind whipped at the curved plume of her velvet riding cap, and in the sheer joy of the moment Shanna shook out the reins. The mount responded to her urging and stretched out, seeming almost to take flight. It was familiar ground Jezebel roamed, and she raced on. Shanna let her run until they had passed the large oak and entered the forest on an overgrown wagon trail. Here, she reined down to a saner pace.
The air was cool, but the sun was high, and there was a feeling of chaste virginity in this wilderness. Shanna caught a glimpse of a doe passing in the dark, mottled shadows. Then the trail began to climb. High hills rose on either side, and the track skirted a low bluff. On rounding it Shanna gave a gasp of amazement and halted the mare.
A wide valley spread out before her, fertile and rich like a precious gem. Down the center of the vale, a chain of small ponds shone bright blue beneath the brilliant sky, fed by a tumbling waterfall that spilled down a cliff through glistening rainbows round about its feet. Beyond the ponds, beneath the high branches of a stand of pines, stood a small hut of simple and crude construction, and from its chimney a thin wreath of smoke curled into the air.
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