“How is it that ye haven’t seen him? Ye work for him, don’t ye?”
“I haven’t had the opportunity to see Lord Saxton for myself since I returned to Saxton Hall.”
“Then how do ye know it be Lord Saxton ye’re workin’ for?”
“Mrs. Kendall said as much, sir, and she saw him.”
“Mrs. Kendall?” Avery frowned.
Erienne supplied the information. “Lord Saxton’s housekeeper.”
Avery’s brows gathered in an angry frown. He could make no sense of what they were claiming, and he suspected they were seeking to play him for a fool. He waved his hand sharply, sending Erienne into the cottage. As she went, he spoke again to the footman.
“I don’t know yer master, and I don’t know his reasons, but ye can thank him, whoe’er he might be, for returnin’ me girl ter me. He’ll be welcomed here ter me home whene’er he ventures ter Mawbry.”
The coach pulled around and headed back north. The villagers drifted away, having a story to relate and enlarge upon. The burning of Saxton Hall had dimmed in their memories. Details had been forgotten, but that would not stop them from recounting the happening as they now remembered it.
The mayor frowned at his son as he stood holding Socrates’ reins. “Ye put that animal where yer sister can’t get her hands on it again, or I’ll see it fed to the dogs.”
Avery strode into the cottage, slammed the door behind him, and faced Erienne, who waited near the stairs. Folding his arms across his chest like a ponderous monarch, he demanded, “Now, me fine little lass, I’ll be hearin’ whatever explanation ye have for leavin’ here.”
Erienne turned away slightly, lifting her own chin as she answered him. “I had set my mind that I would not bend to your whim anymore. I intended to seek out employment wherever I could find it and make my own way in the world. I would never have returned if Lord Saxton hadn’t made arrangements to send me back.”
Avery’s eyes grew piercing. “Well, girl, since ye’ve chosen ter disobey me, yer own good father, ye know I have no choice but ter take me trust from ye. I had a worry, I did, what with the roup bein’ only a couple o’ days away and half the town an’ all the men wonderin’ if I be playin’ some game with them.”
Erienne answered him boldly. “Your worries were indeed great, Father, but unlike mine they were what you brought upon yourself. Mine are those which another has imposed upon me.”
“Imposed upon ye! Imposed upon ye, indeed!” Avery snarled, red-faced and irate. “Why, here I’ve tended ye these many months since yer ma passed on. Gave ye the best I could, food ter fill yer belly and a roof over yer head, and maybe a new gown now and then just to make ye happy.” He ignored her light scoff, adding, “And I did me best ter find ye a fittin’ husband.”
“Fitting husband? A frail bag of bones, or one too plump to count his toes? A drooling, slobbering mouse of a man with clammy hands? Or a spinster too ancient to seek a wife on his own? Fitting husband, you say?” She laughed in contempt. “More like a fitting purse for a man with a desperate need.”
“Be that as it may,” her father ground through his teeth, “but until ye leave this house, ye’ll find yer chamber door locked through the night. Ye’ll go no place on the morrow but with Farrell and meself…then come the roup, we’ll see what high price ye’ll bring.”
“I’ll go to my room now.” Erienne spoke in a flat, emotionless tone. “I’ll stay there whether you lock the door or not, and I’ll go to your roup. But I warn you now to make all the arrangements beforehand. The marriage must take place the day following the roup, for I will stay in this house only one night after you’ve sold me, and when I leave, I will no longer recognize that you have any authority over me.”
Chapter Seven
FOR half an hour before the appointed time, Farrell stood before the inn and hawked to any and all who passed, “Hear ye! Hear ye! The roup for the mayor’s daughter, Erienne, is about to commence. Hear ye! Hear ye! Gather round one and all. ’Twill be her hand in marriage ye’ll be biddin’ for.”
Erienne shuddered as her brother’s plaintive call drifted in through the open bedroom window. In another few moments she would be on the platform with him, and there would be no choice for her but to endure the probing stares of the men. The crowd was growing steadily larger in front of the inn. No doubt many were coming out of curiosity rather than with plans to participate. After today, it would be hard for the townfolk to forget the Flemings. Her father had certainly done nothing else to warrant fame, for he had spent most of his time seeking after his own pleasures and very little establishing himself as a memorable mayor.
Erienne closed the window and turned the latch. Today she would be sold, tomorrow wedded. She had settled herself to that fact. Whether she would be able to abide her husband or not was yet to be determined, but she fervently prayed it would not be either Smedley Goodfield or Harford Newton.
Absently she smoothed a stray wisp of a curl from her temple. In outright defiance of her father’s command to let her hair fall freely, she had twisted the heavy black tresses in the usual large knot at the nape of her neck. It suited her mood to portray the aging spinster, but she failed miserably in that quest. Hers was a soft and rare beauty that would remain ageless for many years to come, and with her dark hair pulled back, the perfection of the delicate features and oval contour of her face was readily evident.
Erienne glanced about the small bedchamber, seeing it with the eyes of a stranger. The low ceiling, the bare wood floor, the tiny windows that had let in a minimum of light…seemed totally different now. Beyond tomorrow, the details would be like ashes in her mind, easily swept away. She would have a new home, hopefully happier than this one had been of late, and she would be a wife, perhaps even a mother. Necessity would never allow her to think again of the girlish hopes and dreams that had been born in this room. She left the room and slowly made her way down the stairs to where her father waited.
“Here ye are,” he snorted. “Thought I might have ter come fetch ye.”
“There was no need to fret, Father,” she answered in a soft tone. “I said I would go to your roup.”
Avery peered at her closely, confused by her calm manner. He had expected outright mutiny and had prepared himself to be firm. Seeing her quiet and submissive made him uneasy. He was reminded of her mother and knew she would not have tolerated this treatment of her daughter.
“Let’s be off,” he ordered gruffly, thrusting the twinge of conscience from him. He drew out his timepiece and noted the hour. “We’ve just time enough ter let the gentlemen look ye over before the biddin’ begins. Might raise it a mite. ’Tain’t every day there’s a roup such as this with one so comely ter be bartered off.”
“No, ’tis rare indeed that a father sells his daughter,” Erienne responded, unable to resist the sarcasm.
Avery chortled. “I have ye ter thank, miss, for givin’ me the idea.”
Resolutely Erienne drew on her woolen cloak and lifted the deep hood to cover her head, choosing to protect herself as much from the curious stares as to hide her pale face. Her pride ached, but the fear of what lay in store for her was reducing her to a trembling, shaking coward. She had given her word that she would go to the roup and marry the man who bought her, yet her promise did not eliminate her anxieties and fears.
Lord Talbot’s carriage was pulled to the side of the road a short distance from the cottage, and when Avery craned his neck to see within, Claudia leaned forward to the window. She looked Erienne over with a condescending smile.
“My dear Erienne, I do wish you good fortune with finding a husband among that gathering of wayward souls. You seem to have stirred the attention of all the wealthy wretches of our society. I’m just glad it’s not me.”
Without nod or reply, Erienne continued on her way. The woman’s chiding laughter stiffened her resolve to accept what was being done to her with as much dignity as she could muster. What else could she do when she knew no amount of plea
ding would have any effect?
The usual gathering of townfolk was present in the crowd, and she saw several strangers crowded among them. The men looked her over carefully as she approached, and the grins that spread across their faces made her think that their minds were running far afield. If she had once felt unclothed beneath Christopher’s gaze, then the ogling stares of these men made her feel unclean.
Farrell had made a small platform before the inn, and as the crowd parted for her, she fastened her gaze on the structure rather than recognize those faces that she feared would be there. She had no wish to see Harford, Smedley, or any of the other suitors she had rejected.
Almost in a daze, she moved to mount the steps, and in her narrowed vision she found a hand ready to assist. It was strong, lean, well manicured, showing darkly tanned against the crisp white cuff of his sleeve. The sight of it set her heart to fluttering, and she knew even before she glanced up that she would find Christopher Seton standing beside her. She was right, and he looked so handsome it nearly took her breath away.
Avery thrust his way rudely between them. “If ye’ve read the notice, Mr. Seton, ye ought ter know ye won’t be allowed ter bid.”
With a mocking smile lightly curving his lips, Christopher inclined his head briefly to indicate his acknowledgment of the declaration. “You’ve made yourself abundantly clear, sir.”
“Then what be ye here for?”
Christopher laughed as if amused. “Why, I have a financial interest in the proceedings. If you’ll remember, there is a matter of a gambling debt you promised to pay.”
“I told ye!” Avery barked. “Ye’ll get yer money!”
Christopher reached inside his coat and withdrew a light bundle of neatly tied papers. “If your memory serves you with this also, Mayor, you should recognize these as the debts you left London without paying.”
Avery stared at him in shock, unable to voice a reply or denial.
Christopher casually unfolded the parchments and drew his attention to the name carefully penned across them. “Your signature, I believe.”
After a quick, hesitant glance, Avery grew red and outraged. “And what if ’tis? What concern be it o’ yers?”
“The debts are very much my concern,” Christopher replied pleasantly. “I have redeemed them from the London merchants and increased your indebtedness to me.”
Avery was clearly bemused. “Why would ye do such a thing?”
“Oh, I realize that you are unable to reimburse me at the present moment, but I am prepared to be generous. I am not usually a man of hasty decision when it concerns a lasting relationship, but you have forced my hand. In exchange for your daughter’s hand in marriage, I will give you a certificate of payment for these debts.”
“Never!” Farrell railed, drowning out Erienne’s surprised gasp. He had come to stand on the platform near the top of the steps and now shook his fist at Christopher. “I won’t have a sister of mine married to the likes of ye!”
Christopher raised his gaze to consider the younger man in open mockery. “Why not ask your sister what her pleasure might be?”
“I’ll kill ye meself before I’d let her marry ye!” Farrell growled. “So take the warning, Mr. Seton.”
Christopher gave a derisive laugh. “You should be careful with your threats, sir. I don’t think you could bear the loss of another arm.”
“Ye were lucky then. Ye won’t be again,” Farrell snarled savagely.
“With your record, I really don’t think I have much to worry about.”
Christopher turned back to Avery, abruptly dismissing the brother. “Think on my offer carefully, Mayor. You’ll either have to turn a fair profit from the sale of your daughter today, or give her over to me now in full payment of your debts.”
Erienne remembered the nights she had sat beside Farrell’s bed while he lay twisting and writhing in torment. She had craved revenge for what the Yankee had done to her brother, and now that same one was demanding either her hand in marriage or payment for a debt, as if he really didn’t care which he got. How could he be so arrogant to believe that she would fall at his feet in gratitude after all he had done and when he had never wasted a moment’s breath to ply her with a promise of love or devotion? In an unsteady tone she questioned, “You would take a bride who loathes you?”
Christopher considered her a moment before making an inquiry of his own. “You would prefer marrying the sort I see here?”
Erienne’s eyes fell from his, for he had struck smartly to the root of her distress.
“She’ll take her chances on the block,” Avery snarled. “There are those here who might be willin’ ter pay the bride price for such a comely lass. Besides, I’d have a bit of a tiff on me hands if I disappointed any o’ these here lads by givin’ her over ter ye before they had a chance at her. Seein’s as how some o’ ’em are me friends, that would be hard fer me ter do.” He nodded his head in self-agreement. “Can’t rightly do that ter me friends.”
Christopher stuffed the papers back into his coat. “You have made your decision, and I will await the outcome. Be assured that I will expect full reimbursement of my money before I will consider the matter settled.” He touched the brim of his hat briefly. “Until later then.”
Avery prodded his stunned daughter, urging her up the steps. It was a difficult moment for Erienne. She wanted to maintain an air of cool disdain, to face them all in calm defiance, but her mauled pride and an aching distrust of the future assailed her senses. Momentarily blinded by a rush of tears, she stumbled on the hem of her gown. Once again she found a supportive hand coming to her aid. Long fingers grasped her elbow and held her firmly until she regained her balance. Furious with herself that she should display such weakness, Erienne lifted her chin and found the grayish-green eyes resting on her with something akin to compassion or pity. It was too much for her to bear.
“Please…don’t…don’t touch me,” she whispered.
His hand slipped away, and he gave a short, scornful laugh. “When you say that to your husband, my sweet, remember to be more commanding. Perhaps you’ll be more effective.”
He strode away and Erienne watched through welling tears as the Talbots’ carriage drew up beside him and Claudia’s face again appeared at the window.
“Why, Christopher, what are you doing here?” Claudia presented an injured mien as he stepped to the carriage. “Don’t tell me you’re going to bid for a wife. Surely a man of your wealth and stature can do better than Erienne Fleming.”
Christopher could well guess who she had in mind. “I am here to collect a debt.”
Claudia laughed in relief. “Well, that I can understand. ’Twas the other I was worried about. I thought surely you had taken leave of your senses.”
A bland smile touched his lips. “Not quite.”
“Come now, gentlemen,” Avery hawked. “Gather ’round now and feast yer eyes on this lovely. Ye won’t see another to compare with her after she’s taken. Come and look. The roup will be startin’ a mere moment from now.”
Avery took hold of Erienne’s cloak, and when she tried to resist its removal, chortled and with a mocking bow, swept it from her. A loud roar of approval came from the audience as the men feasted their eyes on the prize. Spurred on, Avery caught his fingers in the thick knot of hair and spilled it from its mooring, draping it over Erienne’s shoulder and breast.
“See for yerselves, gentlemen. Is she not worth a fortune?”
Erienne’s jaw was clamped tight as she stared down into a sea of gaping leers. She felt her skin crawl and had to steady herself against a moment of panic. She raised her head, and her breath halted as she found Christopher’s attention fully upon her. Of a sudden she wished she would not have been so proud and foolish to dismiss his offer, for she had seen none in the crowd who did not cause a cold feeling of dread to knot in the pit of her stomach.
Claudia’s eyes narrowed as she also noticed where Christopher’s gaze was directed. She cleared her thro
at and smiled prettily as he turned back. “I’d like to invite you for a ride about the countryside, Christopher, but you seem unduly interested in the proceedings. Perhaps you would rather stay here.” Her eyes were bright as she awaited a denial.
“Forgive me, Miss Talbot.” A brief smile touched his lips. “The debt is for a considerable sum, and it may be my only chance to collect it.”
“Oh, I see.” She was annoyed by his refusal but managed to disguise the fact. “I shall leave you to your business, then.” She couldn’t resist a hopeful question. “Will I be seeing you later?”
“I’ll be leaving Mawbry this evening. My business will be finished here, and I don’t know when I’ll be coming back.”
“Oh, but you have to!” she exclaimed. “When will I see you again if you don’t?”
Christopher hid his amusement at the woman’s lack of coyness. “I’ll be keeping my room here at the inn. It shouldn’t be too long before I return.”
A Rose in Winter Page 17
