by Janet Woods
Filled with fatherly feelings towards the youngsters he’d rescued, he said, ‘Go about your business now.’
‘No!’ Miranda said, knowing full well that if she wore the blue brocade gown Mrs Pridie offered, she would no longer be able to disguise herself as a child and they would be sent packing.
Lucy had no such scruples. Her spots had now faded to little more than a trace, and she danced across the room with a wide smile on her face in an ankle-length swirl of pink chiffon over satin. She wore a big bow in her hair with flowing ribbons dotted with little silk rosebuds.
Mrs Pridie sighed. ‘The master is not in the best of moods, luvvy. Take my advice. It would not be wise to put your head in that particular lion’s mouth tonight.’
‘Then I won’t go down at all. Tell Sir James I’m unwell.’
‘He won’t believe it when you displayed no evidence of it earlier.’
‘He’ll have to, because he wouldn’t drag me down the stairs by my ears.’
Pridie’s lips pursed. ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that, young lady. On your own head be it, then.’
Miranda didn’t want to spoil Lucy’s enjoyment. ‘Take Lucy down with you, Pridie. She can tell me all about it when she comes up to bed. Be on your best behaviour, Lucy. Don’t forget your manners.’
Advice she should have given herself, she realized, when a few minutes later the door opened and slammed back against the wall.
Dropping the book she’d just started, Miranda jumped up from the chair and stammered as she backed towards the bed, ‘What … do you think you’re doing?’
He came to stand in front of her, a solidly handsome figure gazing down at her through eyes that glowed like fiery coals. ‘In this house, I give the orders and you obey them.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘That’s a lie, since you missed lunch. I expect you to put on the clothing I provided you with, and come down to dinner like any other civilized young woman.’
A quiver of nervousness crept into her voice. ‘I prefer my own clothes.’
‘Do you … do you indeed?’ Reaching out, he grasped her ragged dress in both fists and split it asunder.
His eyes widened in surprise as his glance ran over her exposed body, which she tried to cover with her hands.
He drew them aside, and she closed her eyes and drew in an agonized breath, almost paralyzed by shock, when his hands gently cupped her breasts, before sliding lightly down over her belly to flatten against the dark thatch of hair at the apex of her thighs.
‘Don’t do that,’ she pleaded, her voice low with the shame of being handled, and she found the courage to push his hand away.
His breath expelled with some force, ‘My God, you’re a grown woman … and an exquisitely formed one at that. How the hell did I miss it? You’ve been lying to me all along, missy. How old are you?’
‘I’ll be nineteen next month.’ Face flushing, she jerked the torn edges of her clothing together and turned her back on him. ‘I never suggested I was anything different from what I am. Go away; you’ve shamed me.’
The heat from his body lessened, and the tension between them cooled. He stepped back, created some space between them, but something had changed in him because his eyes held the knowledge of her nakedness.
‘Why didn’t you enlighten me on the numerous occasions I referred to you as a child? Why didn’t you tell me, Miranda?’
She shrugged. ‘I thought you might turn us out, and Lucy desperately needed help. I intended to tell you when we had our meeting.’
‘Which meeting was that?’
‘The one where you said you wanted to know everything about us.’
‘Ah … that meeting. I’ve been a bit busy of late, and it had slipped my mind. In view of what’s happened, we shall schedule that meeting for eleven o’clock tomorrow morning in my study.’
His footsteps echoed across the floor and he opened the door. ‘Now your charade has been exposed, there is no more need for subterfuge, is there? Nobody will learn from me of what happened here this evening. I’ll send Pridie up to help you dress. If you want to be silly and wear the remnants of your own clothing for the occasion, go ahead, but I’ll be disappointed if you do. I will expect you in half an hour at the latest. Is that clear, Miss Jarvis?’
‘Perfectly, Sir James,’ she said, wishing she’d listened to Mrs Pridie in the first place.
The door was almost shut when he opened it again. Gruffly, he said, ‘You took me completely by surprise and have nothing to feel shamed about, girl. That particular honour goes to me on this occasion.’
Five
The gown was slightly old-fashioned, its skirt flaring out over a stiff petticoat and decorated with a pretty lace trim, but it suited her. Anna arranged Miranda’s hair into a topknot, decorating it with a posy of silk flowers. Heated tongs were used to create ringlets at either side of her face.
‘There, don’t you look lovely?’ Mrs Pridie said, turning her towards the long oval mirror. ‘Sir James was right taken aback … that he was. And serve him right for seeing only what he wanted to. I tried to tell him before, but no, he wouldn’t listen.’
A stranger looked back at Miranda, and she was made immediately aware that her parents would never have been able to afford a gown like this for her.
The bodice hugged her waist, stomach and ribs, and had enough stretch in it to allow her to breathe, but not to slouch. She remembered laughing with her mother over an advertisement for one in the Ladies Journal – seven shillings for a waist no more than eighteen inches in circumference and sixpence per inch extra for larger ladies.
That had been before her father’s accident, when her mother’s expanding waistline was becoming noticeable. They’d been looking forward to having a new baby in the house. How swiftly everything had changed.
The young man’s portrait on the wall was reflected in the mirror, too, standing just behind her shoulder as if they were a couple. They looked so realistic together that she nearly returned his wry smile.
She ran downstairs when the clock struck half past the hour, in case Sir James took it into his head to fetch her himself. Taking a deep breath, she opened the drawing-room door.
It seemed to Miranda that every eye was upon her when she entered the room.
She shook her head, trying to dispel the younger image of Fletcher Taunt that still lingered on in her mind. It was hard to do when Sir James approached her with his similar, older face. His eyes expressed both approval of her appearance and an apology. ‘You look delightful, my dear.’ Placing his hand under her elbow, he led her towards the guests. ‘May I introduce Simon Bailey and his sister, Sarah Tibbets. Simon represents the customs revenue service in the district.’ He turned to the older couple. ‘And this is my legal representative, Andrew Patterson, and his wife, Mary. Miss Miranda Jarvis. You’ve already met her younger sister, Lucinda.’
‘A delightful young lady,’ Andrew Patterson said, sending Lucy a smile. ‘I believe Miss Lucinda is going to entertain us after dinner. I’m looking forward to it.’
Seated on the sofa, Lucy looked shy and self-conscious in her finery, and in the company of so many adults. Both of them wore black armbands to signify their bereavement, for they had no mourning garments. ‘Two pretty butterflies should not be covered in ugly black, and wearing only an armband will not cause any disrespect to your mother,’ Sir James had said.
Both couples scrutinized Miranda without seeming to. Their glances flitted from her dress to her hair, and to places in between, like curious birds. In the case of the men, they lingered on her breasts, their eyes vaguely predatory. The women’s gazes were more critical and somewhat speculative, as though they were wondering what sort of relationship she had with Sir James.
Sarah Tibbets’s smile faded when she looked at Sir James. ‘I thought you said they were both children, James.’
He gave her an easy smile. ‘At my age it becomes harder and harder to differentiate. Girls seem to change into w
omen overnight.’
‘The younger, the better – aye, Sir James?’ Andrew Patterson said with chuckle.
Miranda blushed, remembering her host’s hands on her exposed flesh.
‘Not a subject fit for the drawing room, Andrew,’ Sir James said firmly, and he held out his arm for her to take. ‘Shall we go in to dinner? We’ve already kept the cook waiting for twenty minutes.’
To which Miranda replied, seeing an opening for her to hit back at him, ‘It was entirely my fault, Sir James. I couldn’t decide between the suitability of two gowns. Then I discovered a huge tear in one and was forced to change into the other. I apologize most profoundly for keeping everyone waiting.’
His eyes narrowed in on her. ‘Apology accepted.’ He beckoned to Lucy, who took his other arm. ‘You look pretty tonight, Miss Lucy. You’ll sit on my left hand and Miss Jarvis on my right. Promise me you won’t grow up as unexpectedly as your sister did?’
Lucy offered him a smile filled with hero worship. ‘I promise.’
Mrs Patterson chuckled. ‘You’re such a wag, James. You’ve only known these lovely girls for a couple of weeks. How much growing up can be done in that short time?’
‘You’d be surprised.’
Sarah asked, in a rather imperious tone for a guest, ‘And where shall I be seated, pray?’
‘Wherever you wish, Sarah. It’s a large table and the dinner is informal, which is why I’ve allowed you the liberty of using my first name on this occasion.’
When they were seated, Sir James rang a little bell before turning to Simon Bailey. ‘What did you think of the funeral and sea burial for Silas?’
‘It was interesting, but I thought there was a little too much romance attached to the demise of such a rogue. Silas was born dishonest and should have been hanged years ago. The world would be a better place without the Silas Ashers of this world littering it, like so much rubbish.’
‘The old families hereabouts tend to follow tradition. Silas’s family came from a long line of Vikings; smuggling was part of his blood.’
‘So was murder, but that doesn’t make it right.’
‘Come, come now, Simon. Silas was a good man in his way. He kept many of the local men in work when they could have starved in the gutter, and he was honest in his dealings with his equals, even when he was being dishonest in the eyes of the law. Sometimes one has to measure a man’s worth to the community and turn a blind eye to his foibles.’
‘You may have the clout to turn a blind eye on occasion. I must work within the law, Sir James. I cannot weaken my stance towards those who seek to grow rich by avoiding the taxes legally due to the crown.’
‘Oh, the crown benefits from taking her share of vagrants from the prisons. Most of those pressed into Navy service are smugglers. Every smuggler given decent employment to atone for his sins is replaced by a dozen more.’
Andrew Patterson joined in. ‘Meanwhile, the prisons are filled to capacity, and wives and children are left with no means of support, which encourages more crime in their struggle to survive. To remove crime altogether would be to encourage anarchy.’
‘Nonsense. As long as there is a network of honest men in government, there will be checks and balances. I have no compassion for such felons. It’s up to a man to support his family, but not by criminal acts. If his wife and children suffer, that’s his business, not mine. What say you, Miss Jarvis?’
Miranda thought Simon Bailey was rather forceful in his manner, however honest he professed to be. Nevertheless, she felt sorry for the man for having been exposed to such contrary opinions from those supposed to uphold the law.
She couldn’t help but offer an opinion, albeit rather timidly. ‘The wives and children of felons are also victims. If it hadn’t been for Sir James, my sister and I would have perished in the snow two weeks ago, along with our mother. Not that my father was a felon, of course. He died when he fell from a horse.’
Bailey offered her a smile and his voice softened with what seemed to be genuine sympathy. ‘My commiserations, Miss Jarvis … a different circumstance altogether. Females are notably soft-hearted about such matters. I have seen them weep at the gallows over the demise of the most disgusting and notorious of villains. With respect, women have very little understanding in such matters, since they are governed by their emotions.’
Into the sudden silence, Mary Patterson declared, ‘Sir James is a saint. I have always thought so.’
Her husband exchanged a glance with their host, whose upward thrust of a single eyebrow made him look more devilish than saintly.
‘I must get my halo out and polish it,’ James said lightly and changed the subject, saying to the lawyer, ‘Has the rector chosen the design for the new chapel window?’
‘He is indecisive, but his wife leans towards the most expensive, I’ve heard.’
James huffed with laughter. ‘And why not, when the money for it is coming out of my pocket. Perhaps I should donate the money for a new cutter for the customs service instead. A dedicated window is poor reward for such selfless acts, and I heard you had an encounter with a Frenchie, Mr Bailey, and had to turn tail and run.’
Simon didn’t look too pleased to be reminded. ‘He was armed to the teeth and intent on ramming us.’
The cook and the serving maid came in, carrying a steaming tureen. ‘Ah, here comes the first course. That smells delicious, Nancy.’
Nancy beamed a smile at him. ‘It’s your favourite, Sir James. Chicken and mushroom.’
Roasted lamb and vegetables followed the soup, and the pudding was a tart made with a filling of preserved gooseberries, covered in creamy custard.
Lucy ate little, but Sir James coaxed her with a few spoonfuls.
As if he were her father, Miranda thought uneasily, because Lucy was impressionable, and it seemed as though Sir James was acting a part.
After dinner, the three men disappeared into the billiards room for port and cigars, and the ladies sipped coffee and liquor in the drawing room.
Sarah Tibbets began the conversation. ‘I was unaware of the circumstances of you residing here, Miss Jarvis.’
‘Are you implying Sir James should have made you aware of them?’ Mary Patterson said. ‘I’ve known him since we were children, and he usually keeps his private business to himself.’
Sarah didn’t back down. ‘If his guest sees fit to blurt out the reason of her being here in the middle of dinner, then I don’t see how he can complain if his business becomes common knowledge.’
‘To which guest are you referring? You can be certain that neither Andrew nor I will blurt out anything that’s said at our host’s dining table; am I wrong in assuming that you and your brother will offer him the same courtesy?’
‘Of course not.’ Sarah Tibbets stared at Lucy, who had shuffled her feet. ‘Do stop fidgeting, child.’
Miranda was grateful to Mary for drawing the woman’s attention away from herself, but she wasn’t going to allow Sarah Tibbets to pick on Lucy. ‘My sister has been ill, and she’s beginning to tire.’
Just then, the door opened and the men came in. Sarah cried out, as if Lucy was five years old, ‘The child should be sent to bed, James. She’s tired and she’s being a nuisance.’
Lucy coloured and tears moistened her eyes.
Sir James handed her his handkerchief. ‘I doubt very much if Miss Lucy could ever be a nuisance. Besides, she has yet to do her turn. Mop those eyes, Miss Lucy. I’m sure Mrs Tibbets didn’t mean to make you cry, did you, Mrs Tibbets?’
Sarah almost snorted and said brusquely, ‘Of course not. Girls are overly sensitive these days. They shouldn’t be pandered to.’
His eyes glinted when he turned to Lucy. ‘Do you hear that, Miss Lucy? Thank goodness I have a mind of my own that tells me I’m too old and ugly to be dictated to by guests in my own home. What say you?’
Lucy giggled. ‘You’re not ugly, Sir James. As you said earlier, you’re nearly as handsome as your horse and he’s a dandy.’
‘There we are, then. Seeing as how one cannot have an argument with oneself, it stands to reason that I must be right, and so must you be. You shall play the song we rehearsed, and I’ll sing it with you. Then you must say goodnight and your sister can take you off to bed.’
Taking her place at the piano, Lucy played a lead-in to Benteen’s song, and sang the first line. She had a clear, pleasant singing voice. ‘How can I leave thee, how can I bear to part?’
‘That thou hast all my heart, dearest believe,’ Sir James answered in a gravelly tenor that had abandoned the drawing room some years since.
A few moments later and Lucy took her bows to polite applause. Sir James lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. ‘Well done, my dear. Off you go now. Miss Jarvis. Please don’t forget to return to us when you’ve tucked her in.’
There was a chill in the air after the drawing room, and Miranda noticed that the door was open and cold air was streaming in. She remembered that Caesar had learned to open doors, and she smiled. She’d better leave it open in case the dogs needed to get back in. She’d mention it to Sir James.
Lucy’s eyelids were drooping by the time they got upstairs, and she was almost asleep when she whispered, her voice slurring, ‘It was fun tonight, wasn’t it? You looked so lovely in that gown that it made that ugly woman jealous.’
‘I enjoyed it, and you mustn’t say that about Sir James’s guests.’ She pulled the nightdress over her sister’s head. ‘Into bed now.’
‘Will you stay until I’m asleep? I get scared by myself sometimes, in case I see the ghost again.’
‘It was your fever that caused that, but of course I will. I’ll sit on the window seat.’ Out in the darkness, she saw a blue light winking on and off. Then, not long after, she saw a steady light shining on the cliff top. Perhaps it was a pair of lovers, or a fisherman signalling to his wife as he headed back to harbour.
Lucy’s breathing had become soft and even. Miranda lit the nightlight and went on to the landing. She heard the dogs fretting in a room on the other side of the landing. Caesar must have let them in.
