Chasing Raven

by Jayne Fresina

  In addition to all this, there was Miss Mary Ashford, whose presence was quite clearly resented by Lady Charlotte. The young lady endured frequent castigation for taking up too much room in the carriage, despite being small, tidy and usually absorbed in a book so that the only movement she made was the occasional turning of a page. But while Raven grew steadily more irritated with her mother for the snide remarks, Miss Ashford did not appear to pay them any heed. She remained admirably composed throughout the journey. Hale began to wonder if she was hard of hearing.

  The two Deverell women made up the majority of the noise. They conversed mostly in argument form, tautly bickering back and forth. As a man who spent most of his time alone, and who rarely indulged in a raised voice, it was a rude awakening for Hale. Did other mothers and daughters act this way? He wished the springs of his carriage had as much tension.

  Pity they could not have dispensed with a chaperone, he thought on several occasions. But that, of course, was impossible. He had already engendered the wrath of his aunts, who refused to condone this "mad" enterprise and had suggested he see a physician about whatever malady he suffered. They had tried to stop him from leaving their parlor, clinging to his sleeves as if he was being taken away by a constable and about to be sentenced to a hanging.

  They would forgive him eventually. Once they saw that their nephew knew what he was doing, remained unharmed and quite sensible.

  Should he survive the next few weeks of...whatever this was. The taming of Miss Deverell, perhaps?

  He looked across the carriage and studied Raven thoughtfully. The bodice of her coat was well fitted, very flattering. She wore her long hair in a ribbon over one shoulder and he was pleased to see the return of his favorite snake. Whenever the carriage bounced over a rut in the road, the naughty, sensuously curling serpent moved against her bosom and lured his gaze downward.

  Suddenly she caught him watching her and looking at parts he certainly ought not. Hale sharply cleared his throat, brushed a speak of dirt from his thigh and tugged on the cuffs of his coat, regaining his control.

  Glancing across at Miss Ashford, he caught the sliver of a smile on her face, as she turned another page of her book.

  Now he imagined the young ladies chuckling together about him, and he regretted agreeing to the addition of her friend. Might have known he was only increasing his troubles.

  As the forests of his estate came into view, he pointed them out to the other passengers, and felt a rush of pride when he saw Miss Deverell's eyes widen at the first sight of Greyledge. Whenever Hale came up upon this view after spending time away, he always felt the breath escape him in a rush of pleasure as he shook off whatever bad mood the town had put him in. He was glad of this opportunity to share that sensation with her; powerfully glad that she'd chosen to come. Whatever her motive.

  He sat back, already feeling the warmth flood his veins, relaxing the tension. He was home, where everything was as it should be. Why did he ever leave it?

  The carriage turned and followed a gravel drive that swept around in a wide circle and finally brought them to the steps, where the household staff waited.

  He looked across at Miss Deverell again. She stared out of the window, one hand gripping the leather strap above the door. How odd it was to see her in this place, where he had not welcomed a strange female in ten years. And this one was nothing like his wife.

  A woman out to seduce him on a wager.

  But she did not look much like a seductress at that moment. Instead she was a young girl on an adventure, trying to look bold, determined not to be intimidated by her surroundings.

  Hmm, perhaps he would seduce her.

  Suddenly catching sight of his reflection in the window, he saw he was smiling. And he felt not the slightest inclination to straighten his lips. He was entitled to smile, since he'd got her this far.

  Beside Raven, Miss Ashford finally closed her book to look out too.

  "This reminds me very much of the Rothsey estate in Scotland, where I grew up," Lady Charlotte announced, taking pains to remind him, yet again, that she was an earl's daughter and accustomed to every luxury.

  "Looks nothing like it," her daughter drawled wearily. "Rothsey Castle is a gloomy flint fortress. The windows are mostly arrow slits and the sun never shines upon it like this."

  "Nonsense! Of course the sun shines upon it. How you exaggerate!"

  "Well, it never shone when I was there," came the sullen reply.

  "Perhaps it was cast in shadow by your attitude, young lady."

  "Believe me, I tried my damnedest to cheer the place up to no avail."

  "Raven! You will not use that language before his lordship!"

  "I'm sure he's heard worse."

  "Not from a young lady."

  "I'm not a lady, I'm a Deverell."

  The carriage door was opened and Hale stepped out, taking a grateful breath of the familiar air and making a firm resolution that the next time he travelled anywhere with a woman, there would only be one.

  * * * *

  Greyledge house, built in mellow golden stone, made an imposing impression, elegant and well-balanced. Sunlight gleamed on the many windows, so that it seemed like a jewel box split open and laid among the jade velvet hills.

  Yes, the estate was all very beautiful, thought Raven. What else would it be? A man like Hale would not stand for anything out of place, broken or rusty. Except for his own appearance. That still amused and puzzled her. She longed to go through his wardrobe and see what atrocities he kept there. She would not be surprised to find a doublet and hose, such was his lack of fashion.

  But despite the splendors of Greyledge, there was also a sense of nothing having moved on with the times. The decoration, while very fine, was also very old, as if no personality of the inhabitants over the past two centuries had left their mark. A museum would look more lived in.

  "That is the way these noble families exist," said her mother. "You must remember the Hales are of ancient blood, like the Rothseys. Tradition is of the utmost importance to us. Hale is a custodian of this estate, and it is his duty to maintain everything just as it has always been." Then she shot a sly glance at Mary. "Too many of these grand old estates are being broken up and sold off, by people with no appreciation for the work of past generations."

  Raven replied swiftly, "I prefer my life to move forward with the times rather than stagnate. I cannot bear monotony. Can you, Mary?"

  Her friend smiled. "Oh, when the ground is constantly shifting underfoot, one tends to look back fondly on a time when it was solid, dependable and unmoving. But I have heard you say, many times, Raven, that you will never change for anybody. So in some cases, it seems, you are content with preservation. If only when it refers to your will."

  Sometimes Mary completely failed to understand the necessity of taking an opposing view to one's mother. Probably because she had lost her own many years ago, before she reached the age of contention.

  The guests were installed in the south facing wing of the house, with pleasant, richly-furnished, sun-filled rooms. Indeed, there was too much sun, according to Lady Charlotte. She preferred her curtains closed in the bright mid-afternoons when she retired for a leisurely "restorative" nap each day, before emerging again for dinner.

  It did not take Raven's mother long at all to make herself at home and begin ordering the staff about. Surprisingly, Hale tolerated Lady Charlotte with remarkable self-possession. He did not give her one of those frowns, as if he'd just discovered her stuck to the sole of his boot, nor did he immediately walk away when she began talking. In fact, he seemed much more relaxed on his own territory, less stiff, and extremely solicitous for the comfort of his guests.

  "The Earl is very civil," Mary whispered, "and patient in the face of considerable trials."Raven could not argue with that. Yes, the wolf was patient, as he'd said he was.

  He took time to show them around the estate in an open landau, making certain they went out in the cooler part of the mo
rning, before the sun was too high for Lady Charlotte's delicate complexion. And when she had drunk too much wine at dinner, he listened— with great forbearance— to the lady's repetitive, rambling tales of the privileged youth she'd spent at Rothsey Castle in Scotland. Whenever she told her history, of course, she left out the part where she rebelled against that noble upbringing to run off with True Deverell. She did everything she could to make it sound as if she was taken from that fine world of bagpipes at dinner, magnificent stag's heads on the wall, and dances with royalty in kilts, entirely by cruel force.

  Hale nodded his head every few moments and for Lady Charlotte this was sufficient encouragement to continue. Raven wondered whether she was the only soul present who saw his eyes glazing over, or noted that occasionally the nod came at an odd moment— rather as if he'd jolted himself awake.

  But that he tried at all left her bewildered. Nobody had ever put themselves to such effort for her.

  Even the dinner menus were curiously arranged around some of Raven's favorite foods, when he had never asked her a thing about them.

  "I feel my corset becoming exceedingly tight," she complained to Mary after dinner one evening.

  "I daresay his intention is to make you loosen the laces," her friend replied.

  "Miss Ashford, I am shocked that you would suggest such a thing."

  "And I'd be shocked, Miss Deverell, if I found that you had not already imagined him performing that service for you. In one way or another."

  Mary had an uncanny ability of looking quite bookish and meek when she was really anything but.

  "If you think him so handsome, Miss Ashford, you ought to set your cap at him yourself."

  To which Mary laughed softly. "Oh, I would be wasting my time. Hale has eyes only for you. He means to tame you, my dear Raven. And I suspect you may have finally met your match in stubborn and tenacious. Which is why you're so utterly terrified and yet intrigued at the same time."

  "Who said I am?"

  "It's quite obvious. We wouldn't be here otherwise, would we? You would merely have sent him on his way with a flea in his ear."

  "I wish I had not invited you along. You're supposed to be on my side against mama."

  "Oh?" Mary blinked innocently. "Is it a war? I would have packed my more serviceable under-things, had I known."

  "I am certain all your drawers are the serviceable kind, Mary. I've never known you be frivolous. I depend upon you to be sane and sensible. If you mean to start wearing lace I shall know you're in love and no use to me anymore as an unbiased friend."

  "Have no fear. The only lace you'll see me in, dear Raven, is a spinster cap as I sit by your fire and read to your one dozen babes."

  With that the two young ladies said their "good nights" and went to bed.

  Raven's room was prettily decorated, but not overdone. There were no large vases of cut flowers, just a dish of fruit from his orchard and another full of little caramels, nougat squares and toffees. So he had learned about her sweet-tooth from someone.

  A very keen, but nervous young maid named Rose was appointed to look after her. It was evident that she'd been warned about Raven, for at first she dare not look her in the eye, let alone speak. But after the first few days Rose began to fumble less in her presence and even exchanged a few pleasantries.

  Not all the staff were quite as helpful.

  Shortly after their arrival, Raven overheard her maid and another discussing the houseguests.

  "I never thought to see the day when the likes of them would be welcome in this house. What can his lordship be thinking?"

  "I don't see what's amiss with the young lady. She's not at all demanding and was very sweet to me when I offered to help unpack her trunk. Even when I dropped her hairbrush she did not shout at me."

  "But she's a Deverell. You've heard about her father and those brothers. They're a bad lot."

  "His lordship would not invite her here if she was so very wicked."

  "I shouldn't wonder if she has bewitched him. You watch out for yourself, young Rose!"

  "Bewitched him?"

  "Aye. His poor lady wife must be turning over in her grave. He was so fond of that lady and has kept her chamber just the way it always was when she were alive. I never thought to see the day when he would bring another woman here, least of all that sort."

  Raven was instantly curious to see this room that remained untouched in memory of his wife. But no sooner had she felt that urge than she dismissed it as "maudlin" and squashed it severely. What did it matter what he did with his dead wife's chamber? She was not going to marry him, was she?

  For what did she need a husband, in any case? Children? Pah, she'd seen her father struggle with his large litter of recalcitrant males. He'd even received a bullet in the shoulder for his trouble, courtesy of Ransom.

  So unless she could be guaranteed a daughter, she had little interest in the idea.

  She had to admit herself amused, however, by the servants' speculation that she'd "bewitched" Hale. He did not strike her as the sort capable of having his mind and body controlled by magic spells.

  But it was a humorous thought, none the less.

  Naturally, her mother's behavior did not serve to improve the staff's view of Deverells. Lady Charlotte required many more than one maid to help her unpack and complained that they did not treat her belongings with the respect she deemed necessary.

  When Raven discovered a bill marked "past due", tucked down inside a hat box, she questioned her mother, who responded in her customary, dismissive way.

  "An apprentice, or assistant who does not know me, must have slipped it into the box. I shall have strong words with the milliner when I return to town, make no mistake."

  On the bill there was a charge for a "gentleman's collapsible opera hat in beaver with sable silk band."

  "Mama, did you purchase a hat for Monsieur Reynaux?" she demanded.

  "Oh, goodness gracious, Raven. It was one little gift and he so admired it."

  "What else have you bought for him?"

  "The accounts will all be settled soon." He mother smiled smugly.

  "Papa will not—"

  "Not your father, foolish girl. We shall not depend on him anymore. Once you are installed here at Greyledge, Hale will take care of these incidentals."

  She was horrified. "You have spent all this on the expectation that he will propose to me and that I will accept?"

  A blank look came over her mother's face. "After bringing you here, he must propose or you will become his mistress. In either case, Hale will ensure we want for nothing."

  "His mistress?"

  "Suddenly you become prudish? Many a sensible woman has seen her fortunes rise through making similar conquests. In the upper circles of society it is quite an accepted practice and you could do much worse. Since you are so aghast at the idea of marriage, it is an alternative you should not overlook. We must be practical, as you like to say."

  "And so you have decided my future, without consulting me."

  "Consulting you is a futile exercise. You're a selfish child and never see anybody else's point of view. I've spent the past three seasons warning you that time is running out and now you must compete with younger girls each year. Your looks will not last forever— trust me, I know— and soon you will be an old maid. So I suggest you start sheathing your tongue and pushing up your bosom. If he won't make you a wife, we'll settle for mistress."

  Raven tossed the bill at her mother's bed and it fluttered briefly in the air before drifting to the brocade coverlet. "Thank you, mother, for your advice. And now I must ask you not to speak another word to me for the rest of our stay, or else I might feel it necessary to find the next mail coach south and leave you to explain my absence to the gentleman to whom you are intent on trading me." Her piece said, she left the room, slamming the door behind her.

  Thus a chilled silence between mother and daughter began.

  It was fortunate Raven had Mary for company and the two
young women spent most of their time avoiding Lady Charlotte. In the lazy afternoons when she took her nap, they went boating on the lake and explored the orchard. They did not care about the sun's evil intent to give them freckles. That was another good thing about Mary, thought Raven; she did not waste her time trying to suit society's idea of beauty. The two girls shared a disdain for the traditional roles to which women were restricted, but whereas Raven's rebellion was loud and often reckless, Mary's protest was wielded quietly and with cunning.

  In the case of Hale, however, Mary saw nothing to revolt against.

  "He's merely trying to understand you," she told Raven. "You must allow that it is flattering. In common with most of his sex, he has been raised to view women as secondary creatures. You have the opportunity to teach him that we are, in fact, superior."

  When Hale was not busy elsewhere on his estate, he joined the young ladies on their afternoon adventures without Lady Charlotte, clearly taking pride in every corner of his property and eager to show off.

  Raven could not look at him without remembering her mother's plans for her future. Whether or not he ever had such a thought in his mind, it did not show. He was always polite and gentlemanly. Painfully so, in her opinion.

  "I hope you are finding some amusements here, Miss Deverell," he said to her at dinner, "and enjoying this time away from Town. Perhaps the change of scenery has served to cheer your spirits?"

  "It has, very much. Thank you."

  "I'm glad."

  "Gracious," her mother exclaimed sharply. "A word of gratitude for once."

  Raven caught Hale's eye. "More wine, Lady Charlotte?" he muttered, gesturing to the butler. "And have you tried the marzipan fruits?"

  Already he knew how to handle her dear mama, keeping her wine glass filled.