“We did our best ter see it cleaned for ye, mum,” Aggie stated and glanced about with smiling satisfaction at their accomplishments. “I suppose ’twas hard for a stranger ter imagine that underneath all them coverin’s and grime there was a room so grand. I was here meself as a young woman so I knew what a foin place it was when the old lord ruled the manor.”
A hollow voice sounded from the entry, calling the housekeeper’s name and bringing both women around with a start. Aggie recovered her composure quickly and seemed not the least bit timid as she faced the ominously hooded master of the house.
“Did you want me, milord?”
Paine took his master’s cloak and stepped aside as Lord Saxton addressed the woman.
“You may show your mistress to her chambers. Perhaps she would care to freshen up before dinner.”
“Aye, milord.” The housekeeper bobbed a curtsy. Taking Erienne’s small valise from the footman, she faced her mistress with a cheery smile. “Come along, mum. There be a nice warm fire just waitin’ for ye.”
Erienne moved toward the tower, feeling her husband’s gaze following her across the room. His stare set a deeper fear burgeoning within her. How could she bear what was yet to come? How could she endure the long, dark hours in his arms and not reveal her revulsion when his rasping breath or his scarred hands touched her skin?
The housekeeper led the way down a dimly lit hallway of the upper floor, and even in the gloom it was readily apparent that the corridor had been carefully cleaned. Candles provided the light and cast a softly glowing sheen over the marble floors.
“ ’Twill be the lord’s chambers ye’ll be havin’, mum, just like before,” Aggie announced. “We’ve tidied them for ye, and they’re lookin’ fit for a king”—she grinned aside at Erienne as she added—“or maybe his queen.”
“The manor certainly looks different,” Erienne commented in a low tone that might have betrayed her lack of enthusiasm for being there, but Aggie did not notice as she trilled on.
“Just wait till ye see what the master has bought for ye, mum. The loveliest gowns ye’ll ever be wantin’ ter see. Why, they must o’ cost him a fair penny ter see them done in such a short time.” Her eyes twinkled as she looked at Erienne. “He seems to be mightily taken with ye, mum.”
Aye! Erienne’s mind laconically agreed. And with enough wealth to beat the other hagglers!
They paused before the large, paneled door that Erienne remembered from her first visit, and after a brief curtsy, Aggie pushed the portal wide. Erienne moved through the entry and was immediately assailed with the memories of the nights spent here. The scrubbing and tidying had progressed near a point of perfection, making the room appear totally different. Yet the image of a dark shape slumped in a chair and surrounded by shadows was as clear as the windowpanes now were. Her mind completed the indistinct figure of her fevered dreams, with the hooded head, the heavily booted foot, and the broad-shouldered bulk of her husband.
Erienne shuddered in nightmarish horror, and panic threatened to send her fleeing from the room. It took tremendous restraint to await its fading. She did so as one who rides out a tumultuous storm on the sea, knowing it would end but gritting her teeth and hanging on for dear life until it did.
Aggie hurried across the room to the armoire and pulled open its doors to reveal the variety of clothing it contained. She brought out several rich gowns for Erienne’s inspection and displayed the sheer fragile lace of the delicately worked chemises and nightgowns. Slippers with tall, curving heels and small, fancy embellishments were eagerly shown, and there were bonnets with feathers or laces, any of which would have made Claudia Talbot suffer a twinge or two of envy.
Erienne roused from her daze, realizing the kindly woman was awaiting her reaction. There was expectant hope in the wrinkled, rosy-cheeked face, and Erienne could not deny the gentlehearted woman.
“Everything is lovely, Aggie,” she murmured with a smile. Indeed, few brides were gifted with such finery on the day marking their wedding. Usually it was the husband who received what his bride brought as a dowry. Erienne knew only too well that it was her lack of one that had brought her to this fate.
“The master thought o’ everything, he did,” the housekeeper said as she pulled back the draperies to reveal the small bathing chamber. “He was anxious ter see ye made comfortable.”
In the now immaculate dressing room, there were lace-edged linens ready for her toilette, a tall mirror in the corner, and crystal bottles of scented oils and vials of perfume that had been added to the dressing table since her last visit. Everything was ready for her merest whim or comfort.
Yet even in the face of all the gifts, Erienne could not resist turning the discussion to the man himself. “You seem to know Lord Saxton better than anyone, Aggie. What sort of man is he?”
The housekeeper considered the younger woman for a moment and, reading the agony in her face, understood something of the battle that raged in her mind. Even though she felt pity for the girl, she was also bound by loyalty to Lord Saxton. Hoping to make her new mistress understand a small measure of the misfortunes that had befallen the members of the Saxton family, Aggie spoke quite out of her usual ebullient character.
“I know the master well enough ter understand why he feels pressed ter do the things he does, mum. His family suffered much from the hands o’ murderers and from those who’d place themselves in high authority. The old lord was called out in the dead of night by a band of cutthroats and was slain before the eyes of his kin. Mary Saxton feared the rest o’ them would be killed, so she fled with her children. About three years back her eldest son come ter claim the title and the lands.” Aggie inclined her head in an easterly direction. “Ye’ve seen the charred ruins o’ the newer wing. Some say ’twas deliberately torched by those same ones who killed the old lord and knowin’ly at a time when the son occupied it…”
“The burns he mentioned…” Erienne pressed. “Was he caught in the fire?”
Aggie turned to stare pensively into the hearth, watching the shifting colors of the flames. “Me master has suffered much in his own way, but he bade me say nothing at all ter ye about him. I only sought ter ease yer fear o’ him, I did.”
Erienne’s shoulders slumped as disappointment and an overwhelming feeling of fatigue drained away her strength. The day’s events had exacted a heavy toll on her brain and her body, and the housekeeper’s revelation only increased her apprehensions. “If you don’t mind, Aggie,” she murmured listlessly, “I feel greatly in need of a moment to myself.”
Sympathetic to her plight, the woman offered, “Would ye be wantin’ me to turn down the bed so ye can rest, mum? Or perhaps lay out some clothes for ye?”
Erienne shook her head. “Not now. Later.”
Aggie nodded and went to the door, then paused there with her hand on the knob until Erienne looked up to see if something were needed. “Mum, I know ’tis none o’ me business,” she began hesitantly, “but if ye will just have a bit o’ faith. Lord Saxton is…well, like I said, he bade me say nothin’ about him, but I will give ye this much. When ye come ter know him, ye will be amazed at the man ye find beneath the robes. And if ye can trust me at all, mum, I do not think ye’ll be the least bit disappointed. Thank ye, mum.”
Before Erienne had a chance to question her, the woman slipped out and closed the door behind her. Alone for the first time since she had left her father’s cottage, Erienne stood in the middle of the room and stared dully about. Bride of Saxton Hall, she thought morosely. Mistress of a manor which, like a chameleon, was changing before her very eyes. She smiled wryly to herself. If only such a feat could be accomplished in her husband, that beneath that austere garb he might prove to be an acceptable husband.
Erienne thrust the thought from her mind and reprimanded herself for such foolish dreaming. She had to deal with the reality of being married to Lord Saxton just as he was. It was too late to turn back now.
More than an hour had passed befo
re Erienne roused herself from her doldrums enough to sort through the gowns in the armoire, yet the soft velvets and fine linens could not sway her from her conviction that she was doomed. She stared dismally at the clothes Lord Saxton had purchased for her, finding no fault with them but knowing no joy in possessing them either. She saw before her eyes luxuries every woman dreams of, yet she knew that in a twinkling of an eye she would have traded them to another if that same one would have also taken her place as bride of Lord Saxton. The hour was quickly approaching when she would have to submit herself to her husband, and at the present moment the thought of death held no greater fear for her.
Having no particular preference in mind, she withdrew a pink satin gown trimmed with green satin cording and tossed it on the bed. The prospect of joining her husband downstairs for their wedding supper filled her with distress, but if she remained in the chambers, he might come that much sooner to dispense with the formalities between them. She had no wish to appear anxious for his lovemaking, and she began to hurry.
At her summons, Aggie came with a young woman named Tessie, who had been brought from London to serve as personal maid for the new mistress, and Erienne was left in her care. A scented bath was prepared and enjoyed. Her skin was gently patted dry, and a light, perfumed oil rubbed into it. The corset strings were tightened, and a bustle pad was applied over her petticoats. Then she sat while Tessie dressed her dark hair in an elegant, upswept coiffure, weaving narrow pink and green satin ribbons through the raven tresses and coiling them about a long, curling strand that was left to fall against her throat and the beginning swell of her bosom. Then the gown was donned, and Erienne had second thoughts about her selection.
The bodice of the gown fit closely to her cinched waist. The sleeves were long and narrow, ending in a design of scrolled green cording sewn to the fabric at the wrists. The same decorative application was added to the décolletage, and this was where Erienne had most of her difficulty. The deep neckline bared her bosom in what seemed to her a most shocking display, barely rising above the blushing peaks of her breasts. Considering her aversion to her husband, the gown was a poor choice. He had, of course, during her illness, seen far more than what the gown revealed, and judging by the fine fit of the garments, he had not been the least bit bashful about her nudity. Still, she was not of a mind to tease him now with an extravagant showing of her bosom. With Tessie in attendance, however, she could not put it aside for another, not when the girl had taken such care to coil the same colored ribbons through her hair. She fretted, wondering how to approach the matter tactfully, and her dilemma was complicated by Aggie’s return.
“Oh, mum, ye look as radiant as the mornin’ sun,” the woman exclaimed.
“The gown is very lovely,” Erienne responded after winning a battle to steady her voice. “Yet it seemed a trifle chilly downstairs. I think perhaps I will be more comfortable wearing something else.”
“No need for ye ter worry, mum. I’ll fetch ye a shawl.” The housekeeper went eagerly to search the armoire until she found one of black lace. She brought it to Erienne with a shrug. “I fear there’s no other, mum, and this one is so thin ’twill hardly keep ye warm.”
“It will do, I suppose,” Erienne replied none too eagerly and slipped it about her shoulders, purposefully pulling it high over her bosom. Even a kerchief would have been an improvement.
“Lord Sax—” Erienne paused to reform her question. “My husband, where is he?”
“Down below in the common room, mum,” Aggie informed her kindly. “He’s waitin’ for ye.”
The woman’s answer was enough to start Erienne’s insides churning with cold dread again. She drew in a long, slow breath and, gathering what courage she could, left the room. The high heels of her slippers echoed through the silent hall and marked her descent down the winding stairs. The rhythmic tap of her heels was much like a death roll drumming out a warning of impending disaster, yet as she came around the last turn of the newel and caught the slow scrape-clop of her husband’s footsteps coming into the tower, she was sure that doom was there and waiting.
When she stepped past the bend, he was there at the bottom of the stairs. Her eyes could not penetrate the mask, but she felt his gaze glide leisurely over her, taking in every detail of her appearance. Her heart refused to stop its wild thudding, and the last few descending steps became a test of nerve. She halted on the first elevation in front of him and found that with the added height of the step, it was barely enough to match his. Her eyes had to raise slightly to meet the shining glimmer behind the eyeholes.
“Madam, I compliment you on your beauty.” His hands raised and slowly lifted the shawl away from her shoulders. “However, since your beauty needs no other adornment, I prefer the simplicity of the gown.”
He laid the lace over the balustrade, and Erienne saw the glint of his eyes as they dipped downward toward her bosom. It took an extreme effort not to react and shield the bare curves from his perusal. Her heart beat so heavily, she wondered if he would notice how her breasts quivered. In the next moment she was sure he did.
“Come near the fire, Erienne,” he bade gently. “You’re trembling.”
He stood aside, not making any attempt to touch her, and Erienne moved past him into the great hall. Near the hearth she perched rigidly on the edge of a chair, poised like a bird ready to flee at the first sign of threat. Considering her, Lord Saxton poured wine into a silver goblet and handed it to her.
“This will help.”
Erienne felt in dire need of something that would stiffen her quaking knees and quell her trembling. She sipped the wine, carefully keeping her attention on the fire until the silence between them began to grow stilted and tense. Whenever her gaze moved to where he stood, she found the blank, featureless mask regarding her in mute appraisal. It was too much for her to bear. Nervously she took the glass and rose to meander about the room, pretending to admire or inspect a painting or a carving here and a tapestry there, yet deliberately seeking an area safe from his regard. There was none.
Though the leather hood was blank, unsmiling, unfrowning, always void of expression, a thing that any bride would fear, she realized the greater fear by far was the unknown horror of what lay beneath it. Once long ago she had glimpsed an old tar whose face was half destroyed by shot. Now her imagination ran rampant when she thought of the scars a fire could leave, and she wondered if she would find a smooth, featureless mask of seared flesh, or a twisted, ravaged snarl frozen forever on his face.
The awareness of his presence in the room was enough to unravel Erienne’s composure. Even his smallest movement made her start. Her legs continued to shake beneath her, threatening to give way under the strain of her fear. Having found no place where she could be safe from his scrutiny, she returned to the hearth and sank into her chair.
“Do you find your rooms suitable?” the hoarse voice inquired as he refilled her glass.
Erienne released a halting breath, trying to relieve her tension, but knew she had failed when her voice quavered. “They are…very nice. Thank you.”
The sound of his breathing was magnified as it came through the tiny openings, and when he spoke, the words sounded strange and eerie. “Aggie has done a most remarkable feat in setting the manor aright. ’Twill be some time before it is finished, but at least we can enjoy a few of its comforts now. I must apologize for its earlier state. I was staying here alone at the time of your mishap.”
She dared not raise her gaze as she answered in a low, murmuring tone. “I…I must thank you for taking care of me.”
“My pleasure, madam.” The rasping voice was unmistakably warm.
Erienne’s eyes met briefly the unseen ones behind the mask, then fled again as her cheeks blazed with color. She had no need to be told what was on his mind, for the memory of her own nakedness and vulnerability caused her such excruciating shame she wondered if she would ever forget it. A long moment passed before she could subdue her embarrassment and make a rep
ly. “I don’t remember too much about what happened…how you found me…or my illness.”
He lowered himself stiffly into his chair. “I heard the hounds and realized someone was hunting on my lands. I followed the sound of their barking and found you. I brought you back here, stayed with you until Aggie arrived. By then the fever had gone, and I knew you were better.”
“And so you proposed to buy me as a wife?”
“I assure you, madam, it was a temptation that I could not resist.”
Paine came across the room and paused at the edge of the rug to announce with stilted dignity that dinner was about to be served. Lord Saxton rose and stood beside her chair, again not touching but comporting himself with the manners of a gentleman. Moving ahead of him at his invitation, Erienne went to the table and there became aware that only one service had been set at the end closest to the fire.
A Rose in Winter Page 20
