Lady Reluctant

by Maggie Osborne

  Lady Katherine’s lips pressed together and she sighed. “I had hoped to delay this meeting to a more suitable moment,” she said at length. She looked at the girl in the chair and for the first time signs of strain showed near her eyes.

  “You are Blusette.” Still smiling, the young woman rolled the chair closer. No hint of disdain or contempt disturbed her features as she examined Blu’s gown and cap and undressed hair. Delight danced in her pale eyes.

  “You have the advantage,” Blu said, stiffly polite. Fresh sweat moistened her underarms as she popped her knuckles and tried desperately to recall if she was required to curtsy to one near her own age. Though the girl possessed the first friendly face Blu had observed thus far, she made no effort to rise from her odd chair. This being the case, Blu decided they were not expected to exchange curtsies. Instead, she followed the young woman’s lead and merely inclined her head.

  Lady Katherine examined a point in space, then straightened her shoulders and drew a long breath that must have severely strained her laces. When the silence became awkward, she finally spoke.

  “It is my honor to present my daughter, Lady Cecile Paget.”

  Blu’s mouth dropped and she sucked in a sharp breath.

  Lady Katherine met her astonished gaze. “Your half-sister.”

  “God’s balls!” Blu breathed, staring at the girl.

  Lady Katherine stiffened and her mouth clamped shut in a tight line. Her eyes resembled hard blue stones as she stepped behind the marvelous wheeled chair and turned it into the corridor. “There is much to discuss,” she said in an expressionless tone. “However, we shall delay any discourse until you have rested from your journey. I shall order supper served in your chambers. We shall speak in the morning.” Following a final glance at Blu’s panniers and Isabelle’s poxy face and breasts, Lady Katherine lifted her golden head high and pushed the rolling chair down the corridor.

  Blu fell against the doorway and stared after her mother and half-sister. “Bloody hell!” she whispered, stunned. “Bloody, bloody hell.”

  8

  There were marvels and puzzles to be found within the rose chamber. The simple but well appointed closet opening off the room plainly was intended for Isabelle, but neither the closet nor the main chamber had nails upon which to hang one’s clothing. When Blu’s trunk was delivered upstairs a housemaid opened the buckles, then deferred to Isabelle as it appeared Isabelle, in her role as ladies’ maid, was expected to dispose of the contents. Gamely, Isabelle professed herself willing, and had there been nails or pegs on the wall, she would have unpacked. Perplexed for the moment, Blu decided to leave their clothing in the trunk. The wide-eyed maid filled their water pitchers, then withdrew.

  Blu’s hut on Morgan’s Mound had contained nothing but a pallet, a stool, and a cedar trunk to store loose items. Therefore, the amount of furniture crowding the rose chamber seemed excessive and inexplicable. There were large pieces Blu had never seen before and for which she could discern no purpose. Moreover, she did not know if these items were intended for her use or if they were merely for show.

  She did think the multitude of servants padding up and down the corridor should likely be flogged for slovenliness. As she pointed out to Isabelle, there were numerous candles scattered about but the maids had forgotten to provide an instrument with which to light them. Additionally, she and Isabelle each found a lovely painted bowl which matched their ewer and basin, but some buffle dolt had kicked the bowls beneath their beds. Finally, the cooking utensils they needed for the fireplace had been overlooked and they had not been given viands to cook.

  In balance the room was scrupulously clean, elegantly appointed, and the windows overlooked Lady Katherine’s private gardens. Regardless, Blu stood beside the draperies, gazing toward the river, and she longed to be sailing for home. She did not belong here.

  It had not escaped her notice that neither Lady Katherine nor Lady Cecile wore heavy brocade or wore a pannier tied around their waists. Neither exposed a large expanse of breast. Both ladies wore their hair dressed up, not loose. Although Blu doubted the bloom in their cheeks was wholly the product of nature, their rouge was subtly applied. They didn’t look as if they had been roasting in the sun all day or as if they had dipped their faces in a vat of red dye as she did.

  ~ ~ ~

  Brooding, Blu looked back at the others, who sat silently around the remains of their supper. Only part of what Blu had eaten had been familiar and the bag and bottle rode uneasily on her belly.

  “Lady Katherine thought we were riffraff,” she said resentfully. “Even the servants thought so!” She continued to see the expression Lady Katherine had worn when she first spied them. And the expression of Mr. Apple and the maids. “She looked on us as if we were vermin.”

  Monsieur roused himself from a state of melancholy. “It appears the latest fashions do not flow through Morgan’s Mound,” he observed. Listlessly, he waved a hand toward Blu’s trunk. “I suggest the blue gown tomorrow. Without hoops.” Chewing his thumbnail, he regarded Mouton through the twilight. “We must purchase a shirt and stockings.” He lapsed into silence, grooming his fingernails with his teeth and glumly watching Isabelle scratch between her breasts with a chicken bone.

  Mouton came to stand beside Blu at the window. “Lady Katherine is as unnerved as you,” he signed with his hands.

  “Bloody hell, she is!” Blu protested. “And what do you make of her ‘daughter’?” A thought occurred to her and she whirled on Monsieur. “Did you know about Lady Cecile?”

  “I have observed Lady Cecile on two previous sojourns in London,” Monsieur admitted. “But I was unaware of the kinship.” His shoulders lifted in a shrug of apology. “I assumed she was a niece.”

  Mouton touched Blu’s shoulder to capture her attention. “Lady Cecile is crippled.” Bending, he made a chopping motion behind his knees, then related he had encountered Lady Cecile in Aunt Tremble’s chamber. Sympathy brushed his expression at mention of Lady Cecile, exasperation at mention of Aunt Tremble.

  “Lady Cecile cannot stand or walk?” The thought of being confined to a chair, even a chair fitted with wheels, was beyond imagining. Never to run again. Never to dance a jig or fight a duel or climb a tree. “Bloody hell,” Blu muttered softly. Her astonishment and curiosity regarding her newly found half-sister slipped toward sympathy. Then her face darkened. “Dammit, how do I get some light for me candles?”

  Monsieur roused himself. “Summon a servant.”

  Striding to the door, Blu flung it open and bellowed into the corridor, “We’ll have some light, if you please. Get yer lazy arses up here!”

  On his way out the door, Monsieur indicated the velvet pull she only now noticed. “A tug rings a bell below stairs.” One of the girls Blu had observed in the foyer appeared almost instantly. “What’s your name?” Blu demanded.

  “Mary, miss.”

  “Well, Mary, fetch me some light and take away our supper.” She thought a minute. “And fetch some sky blue all around.”

  But even a tankard of gin didn’t help her sleep. For one thing, the bed was too soft. For another, Isabelle’s snores roared from the closet door. Carriages rattled in the street. Some cank shouted the hour and the weather at regular intervals. The house creaked and Blu worried the upper stories would crash down on her.

  And there was her mother.

  Pressing back on her pillows, Blu glared into the darkness. For the first time in memory, she slept under the same roof as her mother. But was she welcome? She did not know, but suspected not. Did she not have as much right to be here as Lady Cecile? A hundred questions troubled her mind.

  On the one hand she longed to reject Lady Katherine as Lady Katherine had rejected her. On the other, she felt herself consumed with curiosity about this woman. Who was Lady Katherine that Beau Billy’s eyes went soft and misty at the mention of her name? And had she never once thought about the daughter she left behind? Had there been no curiosity? No regrets?


  When the cank in the street shouted the midnight hour and a chime somewhere in the house confirmed it, Blu threw back her bed linens and swung her feet to the floor. There would be no rest tonight. Not until, by God, she had some answers. Bugger the business about waiting until tomorrow. She wanted answers tonight.

  A single candle set in a dish of water burned near the bed and she took it up, then opened her door. Mouton slept on the carpet runner across her doorway. Instantly, he awoke and jumped to his feet, his body bent in an aggressive crouch. Blu touched his arm and explained her errand. For a long moment Mouton’s black eyes examined her face, then he turned to look the length of the corridor toward a thin line of light showing beneath a door at the far end.

  “Wait here,” Blu whispered.

  But Mouton being Mouton pretended not to hear and stubbornly followed her to Lady Katherine’s door. Sinking to his knees, he sat on the floor with his back against the silk-dressed walls, his arms folded across his massive chest. Now that Blu stood before her mother’s door, an agonizing hesitation overcame her. At various moments she had rehearsed what she would say to her mother if opportunity presented. Annoyingly, the scripts evaporated from her brain and of a sudden her words were gone. If Mouton had not been watching, she would have trigged it back to her chamber and taken cowardly refuge in her bed.

  She stared at the wooden door inches from her nose. What in bloody hell was there about this woman that sapped her courage? Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her fist and rapped boldly at the door.

  “Come,” a muffled voice called. When Blu opened the door, Lady Katherine was standing beside the window, her back to the door. “Oh Cecile, it is worse than I imagined.”

  “It’s not Cecile.”

  A waist-length cloud of hair floated about Lady Katherine’s face as she spun from the window. A gilt-handled hairbrush dropped from her fingers. Face pale, she regarded Blu in the light of the candles flickering atop her mantelpiece. “Yes,” she said finally. “Yes.” A quiet sigh expanded her chest. “I shall order chocolate.”

  Neither woman spoke while they waited for the chocolate. Lady Katherine continued to stand beside the windows, directing her gaze to the gardens below. Too tense to remain in one place, Blu wandered idly, inspecting her mother’s chamber.

  Lady Katherine’s room was dressed in mauve, accented by shades of rose and green. Most of the furniture was japanned, lovely even to Blu’s unschooled eye, and polished to a high buttery gloss. One of the large pieces was open a few inches and Blu spied clothing hanging inside. She made a silent note to verify if she had such a piece in her chamber and if she did, to conceal her clothing inside it.

  Lady Katherine’s dressing table fascinated her. Never had she seen or imagined such a profusion of crystal bottles and interesting little pots. Natural curiosity urged her to inquire as to the use of several items, but she had not called at midnight to discourse on cosmetics.

  A yawning maid served a tray of chocolate then withdrew, and still they did not speak, At length, when she could bear the silence no longer, Blu raised her cup of chocolate and offered Beau Billy’s standard toast.

  “Well then,” she said uncertainly. “May your prick and your purse never fail ye.”

  Lady Katherine’s cheeks blanched to a color as pale as her hair and she placed a hand on the sill to steady herself. “Your language is vulgar and appalling!”

  Stung to the quick, Blu lifted her chin. “Mayhap the fault lies in lacking a mother to teach me otherwise,” she replied sharply. She stared at Lady Katherine’s pale face and flowing golden hair. How dare Lady Katherine criticize her?

  Moving from the window, Lady Katherine seated herself in a mauve chair. Her eyes closed and she touched her fingertips to her temples. “I feel certain William explained why it was necessary to leave you.”

  “Aye. But I wish to hear the tale from your own lips.” Blu’s shaking hands rattled the cup of chocolate against its saucer. She drew a breath and steadied her voice. “Why did you throw me away?”

  For a moment Lady Katherine met Blu’s accusing gaze, then she lowered her eyes to the chocolate she held in her lap. “I knew this day would come. Though William and I agreed you would never... I knew.”

  Blu had vowed to remain silent but angry words burst past her resolve. “You lied! It was all flam, you telling Beau Billy you couldn’t return to England a grass widow. You were no squab, no virgin! Not with a daughter in England you weren’t!”

  Lady Katherine raised her head. “You are correct,” she said quietly. “I did not admit to a husband and child. I allowed William to believe I came to him unspoiled.” She turned her gaze to the fireplace and did not speak again for a full minute. “I had been visiting relatives in the Colonies. Two days out of Boston the sea battle erupted, followed by the abduction. It was the most terrifying experience of my life. When Mouton brought me and the other women up on deck, all I saw were dead and wounded. And men as frightening in appearance as Mouton. I believed the pirates would use us then kill us.”

  “My father never forced a woman in his life!” Blu protested hotly. “He does not countenance rape. Not for himself. Not for his men.”

  “I could not guess that. I only knew those men were pirates with small regard for property or life. In my youth and terror, I prayed a claim of virginity would protect me from ill use.”

  An incredulous expression pinched Blu’s features. “A scab intent on rape is not bloody likely to care one grain if the skirt is a squab or a whore!”

  “I was naive and I was terrified, Blusette. And I remained so for weeks. I believed my claim to maidenhood was all that prevented the pirates from ravishing me.”

  “Were you ill-treated in any way?” Bin demanded, knowing the answer in advance. Her father was not called Gentleman Bill for nothing.

  “In truth—no.” Setting her chocolate aside, Lady Katherine rose and returned to the window, drawing the draperies back to gaze into the darkness below. “William abused no one. All the women were treated with respect.” After a pause, she added, “I was astonished. Then grateful.”

  “Why did you not admit the truth?”

  “Ransom negotiations began immediately.” A silence ensued, then Lady Katherine released a breath. “If William had known of Lord Paget and Cecile, the ransom would have been demanded of Paget instead of my parents.” She met Blu’s eyes. “I cannot say for certain that Paget would have paid for my return.”

  Blu’s eyebrows rose.

  “Paget would never have believed I could return from a pirate’s camp unsullied. No English lord can forgive a wife’s infidelity. Or a scandal. Paget could easier have accepted my death than the thought I might have been used by men such as your father.”

  “As you were,” Blu said bluntly.

  Lady Katherine closed her eyes then opened them after a moment. “Yes. I gave myself to William.” Her gaze returned to Blu. “But surely you understand why I had to leave you behind. If I had brought you to England—to Lord Paget—he would have divorced me with grounds. The scandal would have destroyed my name and my reputation. All doors would have closed to me. Can you understand there was no choice?”

  Long ago Blu had set aside and forgotten her chocolate. Her hands opened and closed against her sides. “You abandoned me because you feared whispers?”

  “I would have lost everything.” They stared at each other. “William understood.”

  “I do not.” Lady Katherine had placed a priority on something Blu could not comprehend. But listening, watching Lady Katherine’s expression, she knew Lady Katherine spoke the truth as it existed for her. Contempt curled Blu’s lip. “Did Paget ever know about me?”

  “I told no one. Lord Paget was informed the ship was wrecked and the survivors marooned. There was no mention of pirates. I never spoke of William or you.” Again she touched her fingertips to her forehead and closed her eyes. “When I received Monsieur’s letter stating you were coming here, I was forced to tell Aunt Tremble and Ceci
le the truth.”

  “And do they condemn you?” Although Blu observed Lady Katherine’s distress, her voice continued hard and blunt, giving no quarter.

  “Tremble is scandalized, of course. Cecile has a forgiving and romantic nature.” A thin smile touched Lady Katherine’s full lips. “Cecile’s conception of Morgan’s Mound is highly idealized,” she added dryly. “But after the initial shock, she was delighted to discover a sister. You will find her most eager to make your acquaintance.”

  More eager than you, Blu thought. Lady Katherine had not posed a single question to indicate interest on her part.

  “Did you ever think about me?” Her eyes were dry and hot as she put the questions she had sworn not to ask. “Did you ever regret leaving me behind?”

  Lady Katherine turned to the window and directed her gaze to the moonlight shadowing the gardens below. “If I had allowed myself to think on you, I would have gone insane. My only course was to forget.”

  A silence developed, then Blu hurled her cup and saucer into the cold fireplace. Lady Katherine winced and glanced up from the window but said nothing. In the end the gesture was futile. It relieved none of Blu’s pain.

  “All you gained was time,” she said, her voice almost a snarl. “Now, like it or no, here I be. And your fine reputation is sanded after all. It’s cross you lose and pile you lose. If you ill-treat me, Monsieur will publish a document saying you wed Beau Billy. That makes you a bigamist. You’re sanded. If you keep me, the tale is told. You’re sanded in that direction too.”

  “I shall present you as my niece.”

  “As your niece?” Anger glittered in Blu’s dark eyes. Her hand dropped, seeking the comfort of her sword hilt but finding only air. “Ye still be doing it! Yer still denying me, putting yer high-and-mighty reputation first!”

  “I beg you to understand, Blusette. Here a lady’s reputation is all. The same reasoning that applied in the beginning applies now. I cannot claim you as a daughter. The scandal would be as ruinous now as it would have been nineteen years ago. I have no choice.”