Was his mother mad?
She was becoming hysterical, just like Maude Freeberry, whose wails could be heard every third night throughout Glenclose-on-Rowan when her husband stumbled home drunk.
Well, if Madeleine wasn’t mad, she certainly was unpleasant, and perhaps, just perhaps—
“Why,” Meggie said aloud to the empty white room, stripping off her virginal white nightgown, “is Aunt Libby living here at Pendragon?”
Two hours later, after taking a very brief walk on Barnacle’s back, each step accompanied by groans and complaints and sighs, Meggie found Madeleine in her bedchamber, penning in her journal. She wondered if she was in a French mood or an English mood today.
“My lady,” Meggie said from the door, then stepped into the room. It wasn’t like any other room she’d seen at Pendragon. The room looked as fine as a London salon. It was large and airy, furnished in the Egyptian style, out-of-date, but distinctive and quite interesting, what with the sphinx feet on the sofas and the bird claws on the arms. Her mother-in-law sat behind a lovely antique ladies’ writing desk, perfectly positioned to get most of the sunlight coming through the very clean windows.
Madeleine was chewing on the end of her pen. She said, “Oh? It’s you, is it? Well, come in, don’t dawdle. You don’t look at all ill. Thomas said someone hit you on the head. I see no sign of it. I dare say that a real lady who’d been struck would be lying in her bed, pale as death.”
“Sorry. If I’d realized you needed some proof, I wouldn’t have taken off the bandage.”
“You’ve a very smart mouth, don’t you? It’s a pity. Mrs. Black told me that you had six women hired from Kinsale to come to Pendragon to clean. What is this all about?”
“I would have told you myself, ma’am, but someone hit me on the head last night and I was a bit fuzzy for a while. I’m fine now.”
“I think you’re the sort of girl who demands attention, and when she doesn’t receive the attention she believes she deserves, she enacts a scene.”
Meggie struck a pose, said, “Now why didn’t I think of that?”
“You might amuse my son on rare occasion, miss, but you don’t amuse me.”
“Actually, I’m a Mrs. Actually, I’m a countess. Come to think of it, I’m even a ‘my lady.’ Even more to think about—I would precede you at an official function. What do you think of that?”
“Not much.”
Meggie sighed and said slowly, looking at her mother-in-law dead on, “You asked what this is all about. It’s quite simple and straightforward. I want Pendragon to be clean. I want the foundation of the castle to shudder from all the cleanliness, the smell of lemon wax, the smell of plain soap. I want Pendragon to sparkle just like your room sparkles. I want all the windows so clean they squeak to the touch, just like I’m sure your windows do. I want to destroy all those dirty old draperies that are frayed and have moth holes in them and let the sun shine into all the rooms. I want that ancient chandelier in the entrance hall to glitter. I want no more dust flying around when one walks on the carpets.”
“You want too much. It is absurd.”
“Why, may I ask, ma’am, is your room so lovely and the rest of Pendragon sporting dirt from the last century?” Hmmm, she wasn’t treating Thomas’s mother with much solicitude, but blessed hell, this was beyond too much. The dollop of sarcasm tasted good. The woman seemed to hate her anyway, no matter if she snarled or smiled. It made no sense.
Madeleine said, holding the black pen in her hand as if she wished it were a stiletto, “I want Pendragon to remain just the way it is. Be quiet and stay in your room. Wrap the bandage around your head again. Take to your bed and stay there, perhaps a week should do it.”
“Do what?”
Madeleine only shrugged.
Meggie said, “Pendragon is a beautiful old castle. It deserves to be cared for. I am now mistress here. It will be beautiful once again, just like your room.”
“There is little sun. It won’t matter.”
“It seems to matter to you, at least in here. Please tell me, ma’am, what is going on here?”
Madeleine looked up for a moment, her eyes focused not on the present, but somewhere in the past, and they weren’t good memories. She said at last, “I like the two heads of the coin—one light, the other dark. It is alternately satisfying and mysterious.”
“Or perhaps you mean a Janus head?”
Madeleine merely cocked her head to one side. Her black hair with its rich white strands was very shiny today. She looked lovely. Hers was the cast from which Thomas’s face was molded, except, Meggie believed, his face more pure, the lines more stark, more finely chiseled. There was no wildness in his dark eyes, except when he was kissing her.
“No,” Madeleine said, shaking her head. “Not Janus. A Janus head has two faces—one evil, one good. But with light and darkness, there is both good and evil in both, don’t you think?”
“Things are never that simple, ma’am.”
“Naturally they are. No, I don’t wish there to be evil at Pendragon, but evil comes in all shapes and forms, doesn’t it? No, I wish to have both light and darkness and I have achieved it. Leave things alone.”
Meggie sighed and sat down on a spindle-legged chair from early in this new century, one with what looked like lion’s paws with long toenails filed to sharp points, and said slowly, “No, I will not leave things as they are. Pendragon is now my responsibility and I won’t let it continue to molder. If you do not wish to help me, I pray you will keep still. I do not wish Thomas to be at odds with his mother.”
“He would be at odds with you, not me.”
“The women,” Meggie said, looking out those crystal-clear windows onto lush gardens beyond that were badly in need of a gardener, “are working well. Men will come in to rehang the chandelier. All the draperies will be replaced as well as most of the furnishings. Pendragon will look like it did three hundred years ago right after it was rebuilt, only better. It will be done.”
“I have but to tell Mrs. Black to send them back to the village”—Madeleine snapped her fingers—“and it will be done.”
Just you try it, Meggie wanted to tell her, but instead, she said with all goodwill and exquisite calm, “Mrs. Black is very happy that Pendragon is being tidied up, those were her words. She may be almost blind, but I fancy she’s smelled the neglect, felt it with her housekeeper’s special touch. She has even given her own cleaning solutions to everyone. She’s supervising all the help with a fine eye, albeit a blind one.”
“Someone should stop you.”
Meggie said, “Someone tried last night. Are you really certain it wasn’t you, ma’am?”
“No, I was sleeping, dreaming beautiful dreams. Actually, Lord Kipper was in one of them.”
Meggie wasn’t about to touch that, at least not now. She said, “Your son wanted me to marry him. He didn’t know my dowry was so magnificent until he actually spoke to my father when he asked for my hand.”
“Men, including my son, always manage to sniff these things out. That’s exactly what he did—married you to get his hands on all that lovely money of yours. And now he has it. What are you saying, Miss—Mrs.? You now want to accuse my son of hitting you on the head in the middle of the night so he can be rid of you since he now has your dowry?”
“Oh no. There is one thing I am very sure of. Thomas is as honorable as my father, as are my uncles. I would never have married him otherwise. No, ma’am. Your son will protect me. He cares for me.” Not love, Meggie thought, he hadn’t yet said a word about love. On the other hand, she hadn’t either. She said, “I have come to realize that there is a lot going on here that I don’t understand. Perhaps after you dreamed of Lord Kipper, you moved along to dream you struck me on the head last night? You perhaps dreamed it was you who tried to stop me?”
“I don’t want you dead, you little idiot, either dreaming or awake. There weren’t any dreams after Lord Kipper. You’re a fool, Meggie Sherbrooke.”
“My name is Meggie Malcombe. Goodness, I hadn’t thought about the alliteration before. It sounds rather nice to say, doesn’t it? Just imagine, I’m now Meggie Malcombe.”
“No, it sounds ridiculous.”
“Let’s just say that you did indeed dream that you hit me. Tell me then, why would you want to hurt me? To make me less foolish?”
“If I had hit you, I would have done it right. I have no idea who struck you. It was probably Mrs. Black. I told you she wants things left the way they are. Aye, she’s the one who wants to stop you in your tracks.”
What did that mean, she would have done it right? Madeleine would have hit her hard enough to kill her?
“Go away. This is none of your affair.”
“I don’t wish to die, ma’am.”
“Then keep your nose out of things that aren’t your business. Are you with child yet?”
That made Meggie nearly fall out of her chair. “I have no idea. We’ve been married for a very short time.”
“You knew my son for at least three months before your married him.”
That was a shocker. Meggie said slowly, “Thomas is a gentleman. He would never seduce me before we were married.”
“Well, my son needs an heir now that he is the earl of Lancaster. If he passes without an heir, why then, William would take his place. I cannot stomach that. Prove you are worth something, and see to it.”
“William,” Meggie said slowly, “Libby is his mother. I don’t understand this, ma’am. Did the earl of Lancaster divorce both his wives?”
“Yes, the foul wretch. There was a terrifying sickness in his brain. He desperately wanted a wife who would be loyal to him. I was as loyal as a tick, but it didn’t matter. This sickness ate at him, you see, and he became utterly convinced that I had deceived him. Then he married Libby and it began all over again.” Madeleine snorted. “I suppose we are lucky—the old bastard might have married and divorced a third wife and all of us would be here, sharing tea.”
“I have never heard of such a sickness.”
“I was told that his mother deceived his father and no one was certain that he was indeed his father’s son. It corroded his soul. I would have been strong enough to have overcome this, but he wasn’t. You cannot imagine the thousands of pounds he spent—mainly bribes, you know—to secure both divorces. All those lords laughed at him behind his back as they stuffed his groats in their pockets. Now, you’ve seen William. Although I am quite fond of Libby, her son is quite paltry. He would make a very bad earl of Lancaster and master of Pendragon.”
“Yes, I’ve seen William. I must admit that I was shocked to see the two wives living together. Both wives.”
“Yes, of course. Why not? That wretched man left us with sons to raise and little money to do it. He was furious when his younger brother Edward took me and Thomas in. Naturally Libby came here when he booted her out, small William with her.”
“And now Libby will have an affaire with Lord Kipper?”
Madeleine smiled at that. “Libby is the only woman in these parts he hasn’t taken as a lover. At least I think that’s true. With Niles one can never be certain of anything. Isn’t he a delicious man? Of course you would like to have a liaison with him, but you aren’t stupid. You will wait until you present my son with his heir.”
Meggie only sighed. “Ma’am, like you, I will stick like a tick to Thomas. As for Lord Kipper, he is older than my father. Perhaps I would knit him a pair of socks for Christmas, but nothing beyond that.”
“Ha,” said Madeleine. “You’re young. You see everything, yet you know nothing at all.”
“This is all passing strange, ma’am.”
“Mind your own business and stop thinking about it. Why did you ask about Libby and Niles? I know you want Lord Kipper for yourself.”
“In only a few years I could call him Grandfather.”
“What is your point? He is a glorious man.”
“Well, yes, he is quite beautiful. You’re right about that. However, I much prefer your son.”
“Ah, go away now and send all those women back to the village. I wish you to be pregnant soon. See to it. Perhaps you will be so ill that you will leave the dust where it collects.”
Meggie slowly rose from the chair and shook out her skirts. “As to my becoming with child, ma’am, both Thomas and I would like to have a child.” Did he really? Actually, they hadn’t spoken of children.
“I wouldn’t put it past you to deny him.”
Meggie’s head began to ache. She stood a moment outside Madeleine’s bedchamber, leaning against the wall. A picture frame caught her shoulder and she moved over a bit. She closed her eyes and thought, How long have I been married now? Four days? And already I have a lump on my head. Surely marriage isn’t supposed to begin like this. She remembered stories of her aunt Sinjun’s trials when she’d first gone to Vere Castle with Uncle Colin in Scotland. They’d sounded so romantic, so adventurous, and Meggie had dined on those stories for days and nights at a time. She realized now that she’d been a fool. There was nothing romantic about this; there was only fear of every sound she heard and every shadow she saw.
26
MEGGIE WENT DOWNSTAIRS to the estate room, a small back room, that gave onto a small garden that would give her stepmother, Mary Rose, heart pains to see what bad shape it was in. She wanted to find the steward, Paddy. She had things to do.
Paddy walked in just as she was about to give up. He was shorter than she was, round as a cannonball, a head thick with riotous red hair, and blue, blue eyes, darker than hers. He had lovely white teeth and a ready smile. “My lady,” he said, bowing to her. “At last I meet you. Is it really you now? What a pleasure, a vicar’s daughter, the niece of a duke—”
“He’s an earl, actually, just like Thomas.”
“Aye, niece of an earl. Ah, his lordship—it has a fine sound to it, doesn’t it now? He deserves the title and the money. A good man is Thomas Malcombe, albeit very young to wield such power.”
“Yes,” Meggie said. “He is a good man. I don’t think age has anything to do with it.”
“Well, he’s your new husband, now, isn’t he? I am to meet his lordship here in just a moment. We have more repairs to consider.”
“I want that ancient chandelier to be rehung, Paddy, before it crashes down and mashes one of our heads. And there are stairs to be replaced. Also, I need a score of gardeners, not people who see a weed and step on it, but people who know their way about a garden and a lawn.”
“I always go around that chandelier, don’t you know?” Paddy said, shaking his head. “I’ll do that, my lady, don’t worry about it. And the gardens, I’ll find the best men in the area. Mrs. Black is singing, so happy she is with the women we brought in from the village. Ah, here’s his new lordship.”
“Paddy, I must speak to my wife in private for a moment. Please come back in a half hour.” The door no sooner closed on Paddy than Thomas said without preamble, “My mother trapped me in the corridor just beneath a portrait of my great-great-uncle Mortimer who went to Wales just after his elder brother came into the title, so furious that he went into a coal mine and the roof caved in on him and killed him.”
“She’s your mother. I suppose that she has a right to trap you whenever she wishes to.”
“She did. She demanded to know if I was trying my best to get you pregnant.”
Meggie gave him the wickedest smile. No daughter of a vicar should smile like that. “Are you, Thomas? Trying your very best?”
“Dammit,” he said, and grabbed her. He moaned in her mouth, and that sweet sound, the taste of him, made her wild. Her hands were on his britches’ buttons before he managed to pull away. He leaned his forehead against hers. He was breathing very hard, trying to get hold of himself. “Oh God,” he whispered, leaned down to kiss her, cursed, and took four steps back.
“Why did you dismiss Paddy if you didn’t want to kiss me until I jumped on you and carried you to the floor?�
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He laughed, just couldn’t help himself. “I dismissed Paddy because I wanted to know what you spoke to my mother about. Her eyes were nearly red, Meggie, so furious with you she was sputtering.”
“So she’s angry, is she?”
“Yes. You sound very pleased with yourself.”
Meggie felt a jab of unworthiness. “Don’t worry about it, Thomas. She and I will learn to deal with each other. Ah, did she tell you exactly what she was angry about?”
“She just said you needed discipline and I was to beat you, that it was obvious I hadn’t brought you to heel yet.”
“Well,” Meggie said, giving him a sunny smile. “Perhaps you can bring me to heel if we go riding.”
“Your head, Meggie. You shouldn’t ride until tomorrow at the earliest. You should lie down now and rest.”
He was right and she said, “Blessed Hell, all right.” Her hair was long and curling to the middle of her back, tied back with a length of black velvet ribbon. He knew, knew all the way to the oak floor beneath his feet, that she was distracted because she wanted him, and she wanted to hit him because he’d pulled away from her. She might not love him, but she wanted him and surely that was an excellent beginning. He would have her yet, or he didn’t know what he’d do. He was an optimistic man. He had to hold to that. He heard her say, a bit of a sulk in her voice, “Yes, I will feed Aisling carrots and explore Pendragon grounds. I wish to plant more trees. I must see what sort grow well here.”
“Meggie—”
When she turned, her eyebrow up, he looked at her closely for a very long moment, then slowly shook his head. Let her stew. “Please, be careful and don’t walk too far from the castle.” He didn’t tell her that one of the smaller stable lads would be following her everywhere at a discreet distance.
“Ah, that person who struck me last night might be lurking about to do it again?”
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 54
