"She is eighteen, Albert. All girls must rebel a little at that age."
"But your guidance she always follows. With you she must confer in every matter, even in the color of a new gown. Daily Araminta is affronted by my sister's undisguised preference for your company and counsel." He paused, looked back at her and muttered, "She does not see why her advice should be summarily dismissed in favor of yours. As she says, you are only a stepmother."
Persey again reminded herself that Albert never knew when he had insulted a person. It was not deliberate. She gathered her breath. "What is it that you want from me, Albert?"
"My aim is for peace on this estate," he continued. "Peace in my house and my life. Conflict of this nature upsets the balance of Holbrooke."
He should have thought of that before he married a mean-tempered, attention-seeking creature like Araminta. But, of course, she could not say so. Silent, Persey stared at the carpet.
"I had hoped by now, that you and my wife would settle into your places and end these squabbles."
"Albert, I am quite happy to leave Minty entirely to her own devices. I only wish she would not see fit to interfere in my life here at the lodge."
He looked over his shoulder again. "It might interest you to know that she says the same of you and your interference, Persephone."
She bit her lip, cooled her rising temper. "There will never be a friendship between your wife and I, Albert. Our personalities are too different, too prone to chafing."
"I am well aware of that, madam."
"Then what do you ask of me?"
"It is time Honoria became less devoted to your company and less dependent upon your advice. I am asking that you refrain from encouraging my sister to come here so often."
"Turn my back on her so that Araminta can exert her opinions and her control? Is that it?"
Albert cleared his throat, and she sensed something even more dire was coming, so she braced herself. "I have great reason to need my lady wife in a happy, tranquil temper now, madam. We hope, in the Yuletide season, to welcome an heir for the estate. At last. That is why I came here today with this request on her behalf. My wife must be kept content, free of anxiety and these little tensions. We cannot risk anything occurring to the child she carries. The future of Holbrooke is at stake."
She felt her shoulders sink as the breath oozed out of her. "I see. I must congratulate you, Albert." There was no doubt that Araminta would become even more insufferable now and use this long-awaited event to get her own way as often as possible, for every little thing.
"And my lady wife. You must congratulate her also, although not yet. She does not know I came here to tell you this. Perhaps you can wait until she makes an announcement."
The bitterness filled her mouth, and she struggled to choke it down.
He turned to face her. "I do not ask this to punish you, Persephone, but I believe it will go a long way to heal the breach. Surely you understand."
She took a taut breath. "Yes." The thought of her own child, lost in the third month of pregnancy during her first year of marriage to Jebediah, cut through her mind like a sharp sword. She tried not to think of it often, for when the pain came it was still raw and bloody.
For many years as a young woman Persey had never thought about a child, never really wanted one the way other women did. Then, when she discovered she was expecting, her world had been turned on its head. She had begun to fret about being a mother— would she know how to do it, with no example to follow from her own life? Would she be good enough? Just when she was settled into the idea, her chance to be a mother was taken away from her. God punished her, she supposed, because he could.
There had been no one to comfort her when it happened, for she was alone then in a house of men and it was not the sort of subject they discussed or cared to hear spoken about. Honoria was a little girl at the time and knew nothing of it. Jebediah might be a merrier, kinder soul than his son, but even he blanched when she wanted to talk of the child she miscarried. Her tears only made him anxious and then he would rush to find something to "take her mind off it", when all she really wanted was for somebody to talk to her about the tragedy. Not to pamper her, but to sympathize. To hug her. Nobody, in her whole life, had ever embraced her in a hug of comfort.
Perhaps they assumed she was resilient enough not to need it.
Ever since then she had tried not to let the yearning in. What good would it do to wish for something she would probably never have now? Besides, she had Honoria who called her "mama" in that sweet way.
But now Araminta wanted that pleasure taken away from her too. It felt especially spiteful today, as she stood in her sun-filled parlor and tried to look pleased for Albert. An heir for Holbrooke was a happy occasion. Yes, of course she must, once again, push her own long-hidden grief aside and congratulate Araminta. It would be wicked not to do so.
"I am pleased for you, Albert. Of course, I am."
He managed a stiff, half smile, although his eyes remained dolorous. "It is early days in the proceedings. I do not want my lady wife caused any upset."
"No. Quite."
He now hovered, as if he searched for other subjects although he apparently had none prepared and had done what he came there for. If Persey didn't know the man better, she would think he felt the need to cushion the blow with something softer before he left, out of kindness. But Albert had never before bothered with niceties for the sake of it.
Finally he found something.
"That garden designer is an interesting fellow. Works hard. Very... efficient. A visionary, so I understand."
Persey said nothing for she was not supposed to have any dealings with Radcliffe.
"I do not think my lord father would disapprove my choice of landscaper," he added.
"You are now the marquess, Albert. Such decisions are yours to make."
He walked around a chair and paused again, one hand resting lightly on the back of it, gloved fingers tapping. "Honoria appears to have taken a fancy to the fellow. At least, she talks of little else these days."
"It is no great surprise. Radcliffe is young, successful and blessed with good looks." And you brought him here, she longed to remind him.
Slowly he nodded. "He is not, of course, what I would choose for my sister."
"No."
"But then my choices have not pleased her."
Again she said nothing, because she had been accused of interfering before, and her own efforts to find Honoria a suitor had failed just as much as Albert's attempts.
"If Radcliffe had some prospect of a manor and a title, I would not object, even though he is a working man. If it was what my sister truly wanted... He does seem a pleasant enough fellow and will doubtless rise to even greater heights. A knighthood one day is, perhaps, not beyond the realms of possibility, so I hear." He paused, looked at Persey intently for a moment and added, "I do care about my sister's happiness. I do want the best for Honoria."
"I'm sure you do, Albert. I never doubted it."
"I do not wish to fight with her or cause her to think me harsh."
It was very strange to have Albert in her parlor at all, let alone to hear him confiding in her. He must be so very desperate to keep the peace with Minty that he came down from his lofty heights like this to assure his stepmother that he was not completely without a heart. Wonders would never cease.
Squaring his shoulders, he took a deep breath. "But I daresay this business with Radcliffe is merely a girlish infatuation on her part and she will forget about it, once he has gone."
"For Honoria's sake, I hope that is so."
He nodded. "Well...good afternoon, Persephone."
She watched him walk out and felt the strength drain from her legs, so she sat in the nearest chair and stared, for a long time, at nothing in particular.
Slowly she was being made redundant to the life of Holbrooke. First her husband died, then she was put out to grass, even her gardens taken away. Now Honoria was not to visit
the dower house so much, because it displeased the current marchioness.
Out with the old; in with the new.
Perhaps it was time to move on. She turned her face to the sun through her window and closed her eyes, thinking of how happy she had been there, surrounded by the beautiful gardens she tended every day. It was a luxury of which she'd always dreamed.
Alas, she might have known it couldn't last forever.
But this was no time to be maudlin. Persey had always been a survivor who took her opportunities when they came and found a bright light in any dark happening. So now what were her choices?
Lord Thornby might soon offer her a place at his side. He was very keen. His manor was not too far away, so she could visit Honoria occasionally. Minty could have no objection to the relationship once her nemesis resided safely away from Holbrooke and no longer "interfered" in the daily running of the place. And Thornby had those wonderful glasshouses. It would be a port in the storm.
Chelmsworth was a dear and a charmer who made her smile, but in comparison to Thornby he was a mere boy. Francis Chelmsworth was far better suited to Honoria, closer in age and lively. He liked dancing and music, as did Honoria. If only she could get the two of them to look at each other and see what she did.
Now Minty had made it harder for her to complete these matchmaking efforts, but Persey was not undone. As she had promised her stepdaughter, she would not leave Holbrooke until her last promise to Jebediah was fulfilled. Every possible obstacle might be thrown in her way, but it would not prevent her from seeing Honoria happy.
Suddenly she heard a cheery whistle and felt a cooler shadow fall across her face. She opened her eyes to see Joss Radcliffe standing outside, forearms resting on her window ledge.
"There you are, woman, day-dreaming when the rest of us have work to do."
"I was not—"
"Your rosemary needs trimming. It's getting overcrowded. Lady Flora did tell me you haven't been tending your garden properly. She suggested I give you the benefit of my expertise. Something about you needing a firm hand in the flower bed."
"Did she indeed? My friend has a mischievous propensity for meddling."
"Meddling in your garden? I'm shocked you allow it."
"What are you doing here again, Radcliffe?" She hoped he hadn't overheard her conversation with Albert while skulking about outside her open window.
"Flirting with trouble." He grinned.
Leaning over her windowsill, lit by the sin behind him, he was gilded by gold-leaf. A mischievous, brown-eyed statue come to life. Or an exquisitely decorated letter on a biblical manuscript. Adam in his garden.
There is one woman he looks at. And he looks at her a very great deal. This was the man with whom Honoria was smitten, she remembered. With whom everybody was smitten. Even Albert could not say he disliked the fellow. If Radcliffe had some prospect of a manor and a title, I would not object...
"As a matter of fact, I was just passing and thought I'd look in on my kindly nurse. I... saw that large, handsome carriage here earlier." He watched her through narrowed eyes.
"Lord Thornby's carriage. He accompanied me for a visit to the county hospital. I am the founding patron, and I'm hoping he might provide a donation." Not that she need give him any explanation and she had no idea why she did. He must have caught her at a weak moment.
"You have not asked me for a donation."
She got up and went to the window. "It did not occur to me."
"Of course. I'm just the gardener. I only have my horse, no fancy carriage to impress you."
"I hope you haven't been trampling around my herb garden with your big feet. Or has my stepson's wife chosen that very spot for her temple? I would not imagine that to exceed her desire for my undoing."
He held out a stalk of rosemary. "For remembrance," he said simply.
She hesitated and then took it, aware of him watching her face, as if he expected some comment.
When she said nothing, he handed her some parsley, "For comfort. Although some say it's for lust."
Where exactly was this going, she wondered darkly.
Next came sage, "For wisdom and strength", and finally thyme "For courage." As she accepted the last one, he added, "Of course, some say thyme also signifies the finding of true love. If you believe in that sort of thing."
"I do not."
"As I imagined it entirely, madam." He looked glum, but it lasted barely a blink, before he grinned again and looked beyond her, into the parlor. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
"I wouldn't be a very good hostess today, I fear."
"Oh, in a woman's mood, are you?"
"A woman's mood?"
"You don't have to entertain me with one of those gory stories, Lady Honoria says you like to tell. I can entertain you instead. Or I can just sit there and be quiet." He leaned over the ledge to look beyond her, into the room where her sewing basket stood opened by a chair. "I could watch you sewing."
"Wouldn't that be scintillating?"
"Anything you do, I find interesting. Even that thing—" He pointed to her mouth. "When you try to look disapproving and weary. Aye. Or that one, when you try to look angry or insulted. Or that one, when you're trying not to laugh out loud."
"I thought you were just passing? Surely you have work to do, Master Radcliffe."
But she found herself wanting to ask him in, to have his company for a while. He could bring some of the sunshine indoors and cheer her mood, bring warmth to her bones where Albert had left a chill. Already she felt better, just looking at his smile.
Before she could let down her guard and invite him in, however, he sighed heavily and pushed himself back from the ledge. "I suppose I'd better get on with it, your ladyship."
"Precisely, sir. Those holes shall not dig themselves."
"And the sooner I'm done, the sooner you can all have your peace back, eh?" Then he put up his hand in a partial wave and disappeared over her wall, vaulting smoothly again as if it was nothing.
She stayed for a while in her window, sniffing the little bunch of herbs he'd picked for her. It was a comforting fragrance combination, restoring her shattered emotions and her enjoyment in the sunshine which had, while Albert stood in her parlor, seemed cruel and harsh. Now it was mellow again, pleasing and uplifting.
The open, leaded window drifted a little, its old rusty hinges creaking. Almost as if it pined for the gardener's company too, she mused.
The sooner I'm done, the sooner you can all have your peace back.
Radcliffe was a wayfarer, a man of no fixed abode, traveling wherever the money led him. She and Kitty Waddenhoe had lived that way too and it was no life for a young, sheltered gentlewoman of noble birth. But her advice had not prevented Honoria from forming an attachment— one that even her generally insensitive brother had discerned.
If Radcliffe could be made to settle down, to see the benefit of home comforts, to purchase a proper house, then he might be a better prospect for her stepdaughter. Might be. He had done well for himself, after all, and such success was not to be sniffed at. He was certainly capable of looking after Honoria and keeping her safe. And making her laugh. Of all things that was the most important.
But Joss Radcliffe required some intense polishing before Albert would seriously consider him a potential suitor for Honoria.
Glad of a new challenge, undaunted by a steep climb, Persey's spirits were soon cheered and she found herself humming a tune. It was the same tune Radcliffe always whistled, although she didn't realize this until Shawcross pointed it out.
Chapter Fifteen
She watched Radcliffe taking command of the men he'd brought with him to Holbrooke, steering the many projects happening around the estate with an easy, unhurried skill that some men twice his age lacked. It was clear he was respected and well liked. If he had a temper it never showed. Even the farm laborers that Albert had lent him for the work had no complaints about Radcliffe's management.
He seemed to posses
s a natural ability to make friends with anybody and settle quarrels in a way that left every side happy. This was a skill Albert had never learned. With his lack of tact and humor he had a tendency to leave men— and women— bearing bitter grudges. Of course, he didn't think he needed to make friends, and apparently his dire boyhood being bullied at a harsh boarding school for children of the nobility had only strengthened this desire to remain autonomous. Persey had tried to soften some of her stepson's sharper edges, but he was still very much a victim of his wealth and privilege.
Radcliffe, on the other hand, knew how to talk to people, how to make them laugh, how to put them at their ease. It was not only women who were drawn to him, but men too. He had a light inside of him, and she had recognized it the first time they met. Folk of all ages were lured to his company by that light. They felt safe and warm beside it, she supposed. It was a primeval reaction.
Little Davy, who had always been her favorite stable lad, could soon talk about little else but the amazing Master Radcliffe. The boy made himself indispensible to the garden designer, running messages back and forth across the estate, as well as filling Persey in whenever something new was happening.
"I don't mind telling you now," he confessed to her, "because Master Radcliffe says it's alright to tell you what he's up to."
"Does he indeed?"
"As long as I tell him what you're up to."
"I see."
"He reckons you've got too many gentlemen friends."
"That is certainly not his business."
"Aye, he said that's what you'd say. If you did, I were to remind you that you're using me to spy on him too, ain't you? And then he laughed and laughed. Master Radcliffe laughs a lot about you."
Yes, she could imagine.
She must be a source of endless amusement to that confident, untroubled fellow.
* * * *
As she checked Radcliffe's hand for the last time and saw it well healed, she heard his stomach give out a loud rumble. Persey might have ignored it, if it was not the third time she'd heard it in the space of five minutes. He'd just sent his men off to rest for "luncheon"— as he did every time she came to apply a new bandage— but there was no sign of any food being brought.
The Peculiar Folly of Long Legged Meg Page 17
