Anna Jacobs (5 page)

There was a pause while Deborah struggled to come to terms with this strange offer. Should she accept? Could she do it? It was hard to think when she was so very tired, when it seemed as though every bone in her body was aching. She stared from Matthew Pascoe to the figure in the bed, then suddenly she remembered her Uncle Walter’s grudging charity, the gratuitous insults, the darned stockings and frayed gowns, and her spine stiffened.

She turned to the man she would have to marry. “I presume, sir, that you would not object to my mother coming here to live with me—with us?”

“Would she not be better staying at Newgarth near her brother?”

“No sir, she would not! She is—we are both—living a life of purgatory!”

He shrugged. “Very well. She can live with us if you wish.”

“And—and our maid, Bessie.”

He smiled suddenly as he agreed, “Her too.” He saw her puzzlement at his smile and added, “I value loyalty, especially in the woman I’m about to marry.”

She took a deep breath. “Then I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

The grasp on her hand slackened and she turned to look down at her great-uncle in alarm, afraid he’d died. But he was smiling too.

“Good girl! Matt, go and fetch that damned parson and lawyer. Let’s have you wed as quick, as we can. I ain’t gettin’ any stronger.”

“Do you mean we are to marry now?” gasped Deborah as Matthew left the room.

Her uncle nodded. “You must, girl. I’ll be dead in a day or two and I won’t sign anything over to you until the knot’s been tied.” His voice grew fainter. “What difference does it make when you marry?”

Useless to tell him that she’d dreamed, as every girl did, of a joyful wedding day. Useless to talk to this stern-faced man of church bells, a pretty dress, sunshine and flowers—and above all her mother standing beside her, smiling in a carefree way, as she used to when Deborah was younger.

She took a deep breath. “Very well.”

“Good. And always remember you can trust Matt with your life. Trust him whatever seems to be happening. Elkin’s a tricky devil. But Matt won’t let you down.”

She swallowed hard. “I’ll remember that, Uncle.”

His eyes closed again but he still held on to her hand as if, through it, he held on to life. She didn’t try to pull away.

The doctor came back to hover over his patient and shake his head in disapproval. Matthew ushered in two more black-clad gentlemen shortly afterwards. One’s clothing proclaimed him to be a clergyman and the other was, presumably, the lawyer.

Ralph Jannvier opened his eyes again. “Get on with it!” he commanded. “Marry them as quick as you can, Norwood! Marry them so that no man can put them asunder. Downie, you’ll make sure it’s all watertight?”

The lawyer stepped forward to grasp the hand that was waving at him in an equally age-spotted one. “Did I not promise you I would, old friend?”

“Aye. And you’ve never broken a promise to me yet.”

Mr Downie turned to Deborah, studying her face. “I must ask you first: do you enter into this marriage willingly, Miss Jannvier?”

“Yes. Very willingly, sir.”

He turned to the bed. “And how are you feeling, Ralph?”

The old man glared up at him. “I’m dying. How do you think I’m feeling? Angry. Regretful. Too much left undone! How would you be feeling?”

A smile flickered over the lawyer’s countenance. “In other words, you are yourself! And do you approve of this marriage, Mr Jannvier?”

“Approve of it! I arranged it, damme! Matt’s my bastard son and Deborah’s the only real kin I’ve got left. After what happened on that last visit, Elkin won’t do. In fact, I disown him. I could never trust him to look after Marymoor. The place needs a mistress, a decent woman, not the sort of trollop he associates with. So get on with this marriage, man, before I drop dead on you!”

Matthew looked at the lawyer. “You will be able to bear witness that he is of sound mind, Mr Downie?”

Again that brief smile. “Oh, yes. His mind is unimpaired and his intellect is as sharp as ever. And no one is coercing the young woman. I will bear witness to all that, if it should be necessary.”

Matthew turned to the clergyman. “You, too, are satisfied, I hope, Mr Norwood?”

The clergyman nodded. “Yes. Ralph’s as cantankerous as ever, but he knows what he’s doing.”

“Will you get on with it, then!” demanded the invalid.

The clergyman tut-tutted and stepped forward. “Please to stand here, Miss Jannvier. And Mr Pascoe, here. Thank you. Now—we are gathered here today to witness the giving and taking in marriage of . . . ”

Deborah looked up at Matthew in near panic. He took her hand and pressed it briefly, as if he understood how she was feeling, and she felt comforted. She made her responses in a low voice and was mildly surprised when the ceremony ended and they were declared husband and wife. Matthew planted a chaste kiss upon her cheek. She couldn’t stop her hand from trembling in his or frame a sensible remark, could only stand there and force herself to breathe slowly and smoothly, so that panic was held at bay.

“Come here, girl!” said the rusty old voice.

She moved nearer to the bed.

“Lean closer,” he commanded and as she bent over him, he pulled her head towards him and planted a kiss on her cheek. “Look after him,” he whispered. “He’ll make you a good husband, if you treat him right. He ain’t had an easy life.”

“I’ll do my best,” she promised.

He nodded and she moved away.

“Matt!” he commanded. “Come here.” He drew the younger man close and whispered a few words in his ear, then fell back. “Tell that damned lawyer to hurry with the will,” he rasped.

The lawyer approached the bed. “I have it here. Do you wish me to read it to you?”

“Aye.”

The will was so short, Deborah blinked in surprise.

“And that’s all it needs?” asked Ralph.

“It’s not a complicated estate.”

“Then let me sign it. I’ll feel better once it’s all settled. I can go in peace, then.” Ralph took the quill pen and painstakingly traced his signature at the foot of the large sheet of parchment, then lay back and watched through half-open eyes as the clergyman and doctor both witnessed it.

“Ahh!” he said softly, when it was done. “Elkin won’t get anything now, will he?” 

“Did I not promise you that, Ralph?” The lawyer blew sand across the signatures to dry the ink. “I may be old, but know my trade.”

Matthew moved across to Deborah. “You must be exhausted. Let me show you to our bedroom.”

“My uncle . . . ?”

“I’ll stay with him.”

“You’ll call me if . . . if I’m needed?”

“I will.”

She let him guide her to a large comfortable bedchamber where another fire was burning. “What time is it?” she asked, seeing the faint lightening of the sky outside.

“Just past four. Nearly dawn. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I doubt I can. It’s all so strange.” She looked up at him and felt herself blushing as she blurted out, “I don’t really feel married yet.”

“You will gradually get used to it.”

She thought for a moment he was about to kiss her, but he merely set his hands her shoulders, pressed them in a friendly manner then walked from the room.

She stood motionless in front of the fire for several minutes after he’d left, trying to come to terms with her new status. Less than a day ago she had been making strawberry jam, had had to endure in silence a scolding from her uncle, had been in despair about what the future held for her and her mother.

And now she was Matthew Pascoe’s wife and heir to this estate. Soon she would be mistress of Marymoor. And it wasn’t the money, but the thought of having a home truly her own that pleased her most, for that was something her father had never given them.

Only time would show whether she’d done the right thing or not, but she didn’t think life here could be any worse than it had been at Newgarth. And her new husband had an honest, if stern face. In fact, he was a good-looking man if he would only smile more. Very good-looking. She blushed at that thought and admitted to herself that she was not unmoved by him.

Then exhaustion descended on her like a leaden weight and she had to summon all her remaining energy just to force her tired body to move across to the bed. She would, she decided, rest her aching head on the pillow, just for a moment or two before she got undressed.

She was asleep within seconds.

Chapter 3

An hour later Ralph Jannvier’s breathing faltered then stopped completely. As Matthew bowed his head in a quick prayer, the doctor stepped forward to examine his patient, then closed the staring eyes and drew the sheet over the dead man’s face. “He’s gone.”

“Yes.”

“He was a good friend, ” the doctor went on. “And a good neighbour, too. I shall miss him.” He looked at the young man, wanting to say, And at least he found the son he needed, because his patient had confided in him that “the lad will do”, which from Ralph Jannvier was high praise. But the stern face on the other side of the bed had its usual closed expression, not inviting confidences or sympathy. So like his father’s face!

Feeling the old doctor’s eyes on him, Matthew took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. “Well, at least Ralph had time to put his last plan into operation. That meant a lot to him.”

“Yes. And you can rely on me to support you there. After what Elkin did last time he came to visit, I’m surprised Ralph waited so long to change his will.”

“He believed that a legitimate family member ought to inherit and you know how he hated to change his mind once he’d made a decision.” Matthew hesitated. “I wonder—would you mind making a deposition before a magistrate about his state of mind and competency to make a will, just to—to tidy things up.”

The doctor looked surprised. “Well—if you think so.”

“And will you do it today?”

“Is there really need for such haste? Elkin won’t contest the will, surely?”

“The man is desperate and will stop at nothing. And yes, there is need for haste. Quite frankly, you will be safer, Dr Lethbury, if it’s known that you’ve already made the deposition. You can blame it all on me, tell people I demanded it.”

“You think I might be in danger?”

“Yes. I believe Elkin is that desperate and that ruthless.”

The doctor couldn’t hide his astonishment but shrugged and said, “Very well. I’ll do it this morning. I have to travel into Rochdale and the magistrate there will see to it for me.” He cast one more glance in the direction of the bed. “I’ll send Mrs Gurrey to lay him out.”

“Thank you.”

Matthew watched the doctor leave, then turned back towards the bed. “I won’t let Elkin take Marymoor and waste all we’ve built here, Ralph,” he promised. He had never been invited to call the old man father and would not start now, but he was fiercely proud of being this man’s son, and of the trust Ralph had placed in him.

This was a father to be proud of and Marymoor was an inheritance to be cherished.

He had a wife, too, he thought in faint surprise. He hoped . . . He didn’t know what he hoped for from that.

* * * *

Back in his own chamber Matthew stood for a moment staring down at the figure on the bed. Deborah was so sound asleep she hadn’t stirred when he came in. She looked pretty and wholesome with that glorious hair tumbled across the pillow and her cheeks softly flushed like a child’s. She must have simply have fallen on to bed, for her saddle bag was lying on the floor nearby, still fastened, and she’d made no attempt to undress. She’d be sore today, poor lass, but her courage in persevering during that long, hard ride had made all the difference to the outcome. And had taught him to respect her.

He hated to wake her after such a short time, but there was a lot to do and plans to be made between them, as well as explanations furnished. He didn’t want her taken unawares by Elkin. He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she didn’t stir and he had to give her a shake to rouse her. When she stared up at him in bewilderment, her eyes still fogged with sleep, he said gently, “Ralph died half an hour ago.”

She sat up then, wincing as she moved her body. “Is it morning already? I just lay down for a moment and . . . ” She stared down at her dishevelled clothes and blushed, reaching up automatically to push her hair back. “You must think me very—”

“You were exhausted.” So was he, after two nights without sleep. He rotated his shoulders, weariness overtaking him for a minute and tricking a yawn out of him.

She reached out to touch his hand fleetingly. “I’m sorry he’s dead. You were fond of him, weren’t you?”

Matthew nodded. “You must have guessed he was my father. My mother knew he’d never marry her, so married someone else. I didn’t know about him when I was younger and after I found out I was angry with him, because my mother was unhappy with my stepfather. But when I grew up and me Ralph, I grew to respect him, even if I didn’t always agree with his views of the world. I shall miss him.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, not awkward so much as filled with their mutual tiredness. Like her, he was still wearing the clothes in which he had ridden across the moonlit countryside, but he had obviously not been to bed.

“You must be exhausted,” she said at last as he sat slumped beside her.

“Yes. But we need to talk before I snatch some sleep. Elkin will no doubt be over here as soon as he finds out Ralph’s dead. His home, what’s left of it, is less than an hour’s ride away, though he spends little time there these days. He’ll expect to be the heir to Marymoor. Was the heir before Ralph changed his will. So I need to tell you about Elkin, prepare you.”

“Oh?”

“Elkin’s mother is a cousin of Ralph’s on the maternal side, which means they’re not really blood relatives of yours. You have a far closer relationship to Ralph, and I suppose to me, though not too close to prevent our marrying. Anthony Elkin is about my age, a little older, perhaps.” He hesitated, frowning as he chose his words carefully. “He has turned into something of a dandy lately and dresses more finely than I would have thought he could afford. He wasted his own inheritance, which didn’t amount to much, and then tried to recoup that by gambling. Which lost him most of the remainder.”