After The Storm (17 page)

The earl spread out his hands, gave her a whimsical
smile, and announced, “We are now passing over Danfield lands.”

Jenny pressed to the window with some anticipation.
She could see the rough waters beating ferociously against the
rocks as they drove by a wide clearing overlooking the Channel. She
felt like a child as she pressed closer to the window and gazed
enthusiastically at the wondrous view.

“Oh, the sea is so wild today, and this view, oh my,
Jason, I love it.”

“It does have a mesmerizing beauty about it, but even
so, this place has never been quite to my liking,” he answered with
a frown.

“How can you say that? ’Tis your home,” Jenny said,
turning to look at him.

“It is my estate. It has never felt like my home, and
the sea beating at the rocks has never seemed welcoming to me.”

Jenny did not answer this but returned her gaze to
the passing scene. The drive was a gradual climb, and she could
feel the strong wind playing mischievously with the coach.
Irregular clouds of whimsical shapes hid the sun at intervals, and
then all Jenny’s attention was taken by the sight of the castle
looming before her. It filled her eyes and made her mouth drop ever
so slightly before she was able to recover from the surprise.

The condition of the grounds around the castle
immediately dismayed her. Flowerbeds had been left to weed. The
lawn, if one could call it that, was badly kept, and the structure
of the massive building that caught and held her attention was like
nothing she had imagined. It had the required battlement and
pinnacles, but it was a mass of gray, dull, cold stone.

Jenny had expected what most young romantic women
might expect when they heard the word
castle
. She thought of
a fairy-tale building. One with lovely ivy neatly trimmed and
growing up some of its spectacular walls. She had imagined silvery
turrets, drawbridges, beautiful pinnacles, perhaps even an
excitingly dangerous moat. She imagined trimmed hedges, topiary
evergreens, and arched windows.

What Jenny got instead was a stark stone building
with a conical turret on its right and another on its left with a
battlement roof stretched between the two. The walls were not
silver but grayed, and instead of ivy, they seemed to be troubled
by an unattractive moss. The windows were not arched, and many of
them appeared to need a good cleaning.

The only embellishment to Danfield Castle was a large
coat of arms over its sizable front doors. These were some ten feet
in height, double, and made of hard oak planking with mighty black
studding.

The sea, which could be seen on either side of the
castle, was a darkly stormy one, and Jenny wondered if it was a
foreboding of what was to come. Suddenly she shivered as a sliver
of dread spun up her spine.

The earl touched her hand. She turned to him and
found his gloved finger on her chin. “Ah, Jenny, you are
disappointed in your new home.”

“I, I was expecting something else,” she said in way
of explanation.

“Rather grim, isn’t it?”

“Indeed, it is, Jason, but it needn’t be,” she
answered, scanning the grounds with a frown. “Why has it gone to
ruin like this?”

“My fault. The trust fund allows a sizeable sum for
its upkeep, but I would have had to be here to see to it so that
the monies wouldn’t be squandered away. I suppose I was hoping the
dowager … my stepmother and Brad would move into their own
house and I would be then happy to spend time here.” He sighed and
took her hand to his cheek.

She allowed it though she lowered her gaze and then
said, “If you do not object, I should like to set things
right—install garden beds, trees and spruce up the place.”

“Object? Jenny, you are my wife and entitled to dress
up any and all of our homes as you see fit.”

“I would not like to upset your stepmother. Do you
think it would annoy her to have me step in?”

“I don’t give a fig for what she thinks. The Dower
House is hers, and she may move anytime she wishes,” the earl
answered dryly.

“I do hope we are not all going to be …
uncomfortable, Jason.”

He gave her a quick look, and his voice was hard. “I
have already told you, my sweet Jenny, if either Brad or my
stepmother bother you in any manner whatsoever, I will ask them to
take residence in the Dower House, which is, I do assure you, quite
large and lovely.”

“It is obvious they don’t wish to leave the
castle—otherwise they would have already—and I am loathe to ask
them to do so.”

“Jenny, on this I will not be moved. Eventually, I
want them out of the castle. For one thing, Gwen will want to visit
us here, and she won’t while they are about. For another,
it is
time
.”

Some moments later, the earl helped his bride out of
the coach and led her to the massive oak doors. These were swung
wide open to receive them as a short man with thinning gray hair
and a wooden expression above his white starched neckcloth
hurriedly stepped forward to greet him. “Welcome, welcome home, my
lord, and may I say on behalf of the staff, and of course myself,
how extremely pleased we are to have you and your bride with
us.”

The earl thanked and introduced him to Jenny as
Wimbly, their butler, and led his wife into the central hall.

Jenny’s gaze swept past two sets of armor suits. Two
sets of crossed swords hung on the wall above them. In the center
of the chilly hall was a dark oak table. A few baronial chairs
lined the walls on either side of her and caught her eye because of
their beautiful workmanship. She made a mental note to pick some
wildflowers and brighten the table.

Wimbly cleared his throat and asked, “My lord, if I
may be so bold, shall I call the staff here to respectfully greet
my lady?”

“I think my lady would like something less formal?”
Jason glanced at her, eyebrow raised in question.

Jenny laughed and said, “Oh, yes, much less formal,
thank you, Wimbly, but I shall make the rounds and introduce
myself, I do promise.”

The room that Jason led her to first was surprisingly
inviting in contrast to what she had seen thus far. It was large
and yet cozy with a blazing fire in the oversized grate. Two dark
brown velvet sofas made right angles to the fireplace, with a long
table in rich Gothic style between them. Two worn gold brocade
Chippendale chairs flanked the fireplace as well. One central
window commanded a view of the non-existent garden and the sea.
Bookshelves lined the wall on either side.

Jenny smiled and turned to say to her husband, “This
is lovely, or will be when I am done.”

He grinned and took her hand. “Would you like to
sneak out and go for a walk with me?”

“I would,” she said, “but do you think we
should?”

They were interrupted then by a knock and an elderly
maid who bobbed a curtsy and held her tray high, displaying the tea
and biscuits. The earl invited her to set it down.

She did so and hurried out, and the earl said, “She
is my stepmother’s maid, no doubt investigating on her behalf.”

Jenny poured two cups of tea and handed one to her
husband, looking up and towards the door when it opened once
more.

A woman approached, clothed in a dated gown of dark
blue that fit her provocative figure very well, and at first
glance, Jenny was struck by the woman’s magnificent lines and easy
elegance. The woman was tall, imposingly so, and sported hair the
color of bleached gold, nearly white in its intensity. She wore it
braided and wound around her head, with wisps at her forehead and
ears. She was extremely striking. Her eyes were clear blue and
decidedly cool. Her mouth was thin, and her smile even colder than
the frost in her eyes. Jenny guessed that although the woman looked
too young to be Jason’s stepmother, that was who she must be.

She went first to Jason, and as Jenny watched her she
got an awful and sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was all
wrong—they way she smiled at her stepson, the way she leaned into
him when he rose and inclined his head. She pressed herself to him
and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek, but Jenny relaxed when she
witnessed his expression of repulsion as he stepped away from
her.

Jenny was conscious of a strange feeling she had
never really experienced upon meeting anyone before. The woman’s
aura made Jenny uncomfortable, and though she rarely disliked
anyone, she found that she was not drawn to the Dowager
Danfield—quite the opposite.

“Jenny, my child, do say I may call you Jenny, ’tis
so informal. How pleased I am for you and Jason. Though you must
chastise your husband for keeping it a secret so long. You can’t
imagine what a surprise it was to receive his letter, but never
mind all that. I have seen to everything.”

“Jenny, this is my stepmother, Diane,” said the earl,
who barely allowed Jenny to greet his stepmother before he turned
to the dowager and demanded, “Has my wife’s maid arrived,
Diane?”

“Yes, dear, she is awaiting Jenny above-stairs in the
master suite. We prepared it just as you asked us to do.” She
glanced at Jenny and gave her a fleeting smile. “There is a hot
bath being prepared for you right now, my dear.”

Jenny put her hands together thankfully and murmured
her appreciation, for she had a sudden urge to escape the woman’s
penetrating glances. She tried excusing herself, but the earl’s
stepmother said, “La, child, you will never find it on your own. I
shall come with you.”

“Oh, there is no need to trouble yourself. Perhaps
one of the servants?” Jenny ventured.

“Nonsense. I want to spend a little time with my new
daughter-in-law. I am sure we will be great friends.” She turned
her head to Jason and said in a tone Jenny found odd, “Jason, I
should like a word with you when I return. Will you wait here for
me?”

He inclined his head, but Jenny knew that expression.
He was displeased, very displeased. Jenny could only wonder what
the Dowager Danfield could want to discuss. Her natural curiosity
was definitely piqued.

Jenny followed her to the master suite above-stairs
and once again was dismayed, this time by the bleakness of the
large room. Three lead-paned glass doors led to a small,
rectangular balcony, and although a worn brown velvet swag valence
graced the window doors, it lacked any drapes. Jenny went to the
middle door and caught a glimpse of the front drive. She turned
with half a sigh and grimaced over the faded floral quilt. The
walls carried the same coloring as the bed, and she immediately
made up her mind to tear down the paper and redo this room as
quickly as she was able.

The room was scantily furnished with a few antiques,
an old wardrobe, and a few small rugs scattered about on the old
plank flooring. It did not look welcoming but for the fire that
burned in the small grate.

“This is your master suite, though not the one I
shared with Jason’s father,” she said without smiling. “I am still
occupying those rooms.”

Jenny was spared the necessity of a response to this
as a plump woman peeped into the room and bobbed a curtsy as she
announced, “If ye please, m’lady, I am Joan Deckles, yer maid, and
the bath is ready for ye if ye like.”

Jenny smiled warmly at her. “Thank you, Joan, I am so
very happy to meet you, and, yes, that sounds wonderful.”

The dowager’s eyes narrowed, and her words were
clipped. “Well, then, I am glad to see you are making yourself
right at home.” She inclined her head. “If you will excuse me?”

“Yes, by all means, and thank you,” Jenny answered,
thrilled to see her go. Why did she feel that way? The woman had
been polite and even attentive.

She waited for Jason’s stepmother to leave before
turning to her maid. “Joan, I noticed a door when I was coming down
the hall—the first room on this side. Is that a closet or small
bedchamber?”

“Oh, no, m’lady, ’tis yer dressing room, though it is
locked from the hallway. This,” she said as she moved across the
room to yet another door, “be his lordship’s dressing room.”

Jenny took a peek, noticed the daybed set by the
small window in this antechamber, and sighed. Is that where her
large husband meant to sleep?

She had no time to investigate her surroundings
further as the sound of voices, angry voices, reached her ears.
Although Jenny could not hear what was said, she heard the earl’s
voice in the mix.

Silence followed, and then Joan showed Jenny to her
bath.

Soaking in the tub was so soothing after her long
journey that she sank thankfully into the bubbles and tried to make
her mind a blank.

* * *

“You are and have been a despicable man, Jason. Even
as a lad, you were willful. You have married that child simply to
do your brother out of his inheritance!” she snapped.

The earl’s smile was cold. “You mistake. I married my
beautiful Jennifer of Ashley because I wanted her to be my wife and
the mother of my heir. My father wanted me to marry and carry on
the name. I complied. As to the inheritance—once again, your way of
thinking is, I am afraid, quite dislodged from logic. I am the
eldest. Securing my inheritance is my right. However, Brad knows
that I will arrange matters for him as the second son so he shall
never want for anything.”

“How dare you speak to me so condescendingly,” she
snapped back at him. “You led me to believe you did not wish to
marry. You often said marriage was for fools. You have given me a
shock, and that was an infamous thing to do, but never mind that
now. ’Tis done, and the future is always obscure. One never knows
what the future will bring.”

“Is that a threat, Diane?” he said on a low note.

“It is what it is—take from it what you will,” said
the Dowager Danfield before she picked up her skirts, turned
sharply and left him to watch her back.