Fire Raven (37 page)

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Authors: Patricia McAllister

Tags: #Romance/Historical

BOOK: Fire Raven
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Jem digested her words as Merry sat back against the cushions with an artless smile. Nay, Jem conceded, he couldn’t claim Mistress Tanner was reckless. She’d been raised at Court, proper as you please, and seemed a mite more levelheaded than the other young ladies he’d attended over the years.

What Jem didn’t realize was that Merry also knew how to use her charms to the utmost when she needed to wheedle her way. He walked off to hitch the horses, still shaking his head but swayed by her convincing air.

When the coach set off again, Merry’s smile changed from sweet to smug. “D’you see how ’tis done, Kat? Men are all the same, no matter their age or class.”

But Kat wasn’t listening to her sister. Her gaze hungrily scoured the countryside for her first glimpse of Falcon’s Lair.

At Merry’s insistence, she had donned an elegant crimson velvet traveling outfit with rose-colored satin sleeves, and her hair was dressed in a married woman’s fashion. She was glad she had taken Merry’s advice, when they arrived at the keep. Among the servants who watched her disembark from the fine coach, she noted a new, instant respect in their eyes.

Only Winnie forgot her place in all the confusion. “Dearest Katie,” she cried, running down the steps with her apron flapping in the breeze. Kat didn’t have the heart to correct Winnie. She returned the housekeeper’s embrace with equal ferocity and fondness.

Winnie wiped away her tears as she stepped back. “Why, Katie, look at you! A grand lady now.” There was surprise and uncertainty in her voice. Her gaze shifted to the redhead standing a measure behind Kat.

“Mrs. Carey, may I present my sister, Mistress Meredith Tanner. She kindly agreed to escort me back to Falcon’s Lair.”

As the housekeeper bobbed a confused curtsey, Kat explained, “At last I found my kin, Winnie. They had assumed me lost in a shipwreck at sea. Thankfully, most of my memory returned whilst I was in London.”

“Praise the saints,” Winnie murmured. Her keen gaze affixed at once on Kat’s fourth finger and remained riveted upon the gleaming gold band.

“I know ’twill come as quite a shock for you,” Kat said hesitantly, “but Lord Trelane and I were wed in London.”

“Oh. Congratulations … milady.” Winnie bobbed another curtsey, this one a little stiffer than the last.

“Nothing has changed, Winnie. I might be Lady Trelane now, but I have not forgotten the kindness you showed me when I was but a stranger here.” There was an awkward silence after she concluded her speech. Kat forced a cheerful note into her voice. “Please do say we can still be friends.”

“Of course, milady.”

“Kat, if you please.”

Winnie nodded but made no further attempt to be familiar. “Is the Master with you?”

“I daresay he shall return shortly.” As Kat and Merry exchanged glances, Winnie moved off to see to the readying of several rooms for their stay.

Merry moved up beside Kat. “You were too familiar with the woman, my dear. You will lose the servants’ respect.”

“I cannot act as if I don’t know Winnie.” Chagrined by the implication that she must forget the friendships she had made here, Kat frowned at her sister. “Good heavens, Merry. The woman saved my eyesight.”

“Still, you mustn’t encourage such familiarity. I daresay Mrs. Carey herself was shocked by your actions. You would do better to maintain a cordial, yet remote, relationship with all the staff.”

Kat suddenly felt miserable. “I thought things would be wonderful when I became Lady Trelane. I had hoped I might make things easier for everyone here.”

Merry fell silent, studying the huge gray stone keep rising ominously above them against a cloud-flecked sky. She didn’t understand Kat’s misbegotten affection for such an ancient old pile of rocks or such shockingly forward, countrified servants, but then, she had never understood Kat at all. She clearly had her work cut out for her. With a sigh, she motioned for Jem to follow them with the baggage to the entrance.

“I shall see you settled in, Kat. Next I’ll head back to London and reassure Uncle Kit of your safe arrival. Doubtless by then, Bess will be one of the screaming Furies, but she is known to have a soft spot for us redheaded Tanners. Between Uncle Kit and me, we can plead your cause.”

“Oh, don’t leave so soon, Merry! Please.” Kat was frightened at the thought of being left to fend for herself. Those who had once been dear friends were mere retainers now, as evidenced by their respective bows and curtsies as she passed them in the hall. Even Ailis, the jovial old cook, wouldn’t meet her eye. Like the rest, Ailis murmured a formal phrase, a stiff greeting that sounded anything but welcoming.

Kat was shown to a bedchamber different from the one she had previously occupied. This one adjoined Morgan’s and was both larger and colder, with its northern view. It was dusty and neglected, as all of Hartshorn had been. Winnie mumbled that it would be put to rights.

Seeing how miserable Kat was in her unfamiliar role of authority, Merry took over. She informed the housekeeper of their needs, then dismissed the woman with leave to see to her assigned duties.

“’Twill never do,” Kat moaned, after her sister joined her and the door closed after Winnie. “They are right to resent my presence here as lady of the house. They all expected Morgan to return with a wife of noble upbringing.”

“There is nothing humble about the Tanner name,” Merry said, a trifle sharply. “Uncle Kit has been knighted and has been a long-standing favorite of the queen. Our grandmother Meredith was one of Elizabeth Tudor’s dearest confidantes, as I am one of her maids of honor. Our father served in Her Majesty’s fleet for years. Both our parents bear the queen’s favor. ’Twould be most churlish for a motley handful of
taffy
staff to look down their noses at you.”

Kat winced at the slur Merry used. “Aye, but they don’t know anything of our history. For all I know, they think I’m an Irish upstart of a serf. At the least, they must suppose me a greedy opportunist who’s taking advantage of their master’s generous nature.”

Merry threw up her hands in frustration. “Y’are giving up before you have begun! All is not lost, Kat. But you must take back the little authority you have left before it disappears altogether. Now, listen to me:

“First of all, you must not hide away in your room. ’Twill only cause mischievous speculation on the part of the staff. They are expecting Lord Trelane to arrive and explain everything at any moment. You and I know Trelane will not save you, so by the time he does appear, you must have them firmly in hand.”

“Aye,” Kat sighed, “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I am. Now, we must needs see you made presentable. Are there any decent maid servants to be found?”

Kat thought of Gwynneth and shuddered. “Nay.”

“Hardly unexpected. Then I’ll help you myself. We must change you from that dusty traveling attire into something suitable. I assume dinner will be served at a civil hour?”

Kat replied in the affirmative, although she wasn’t sure. It was best not to argue with Merry when she adopted one of her lecturing tones.

“I brought along a red taffeta trimmed with pearls. Mayhap ’tis a tad short for you, but ’twill serve nicely in a pinch. We will find a sempster to alter the rest of the gowns for you. As for me, I hope Maggie won’t miss her blue velvet too soon.”

Kat chuckled. “Did you truly raid her wardrobe?”

“There was no time to buy a proper trousseau for you, or indeed, for me to pack my things. You wouldn’t let me send for our wardrobes from Whitehall, remember.”

“I confess, I was too anxious to reach Falcon’s Lair. I fear I have made a terrible mistake, Merry.”

“Well, we are here now. We must make the best of it.”

Chapter Nineteen

 

M
ERRY
T
ANNER WAS IN
her true element at Falcon’s Lair, directing servants and supervising a great household. She was mortified by conditions inside the positively medieval keep and by the appalling lack of servants. But when she questioned Mrs. Carey as to the reasons, she learned the meaning of close-mouthed.

“Lord Trelane has no complaints,” the freckle-faced housekeeper sniffed. “Himself hired all the staff you see here.”

Merry frowned, planting her hands on her hips. “D’you mean to say he has no more retainers? Mayhap some have run away in his absence.”

“Oh, nay, milady. This is all there is. We’re content to serve all his needs.”

“’T’won’t do, my good woman. Not at all,” Merry said. “Falcon’s Lair is huge, even as little Welsh castles go. ’Twill require a great deal of hired help to run properly. I shall have Lady Trelane authorize employment of two more cooks, a brace of stable hands, and half a dozen maids.”

Winnie blinked. “Begging your pardon, milady, but wherever will you find them?”

Merry looked aggrieved. “From town, of course,” she said. “Surely there is a settlement of some sort nearby?”

“Well, there’s the village — ”

“Excellent. You may begin looking there.”

“’Tis not quite a real village, more a settlement of sorts.”

Merry shrugged. “Are there able-bodied men and women in this
settlement
?” At the housekeeper’s reluctant nod, she airily proceeded. “Then what are you waiting for, Mrs. Carey? Ride out at once and secure the necessary staff to fill Lady Trelane’s orders.”

Winnie wanted to inform this snip of a red-headed virago that any orders must come from Lady Katherine directly. She refrained from doing so. It was no use arguing with a
Sassenach
. Bold as brass, this one was. She sighed and bustled off.

Merry stared after the woman and released a vexed sigh of her own. This whole business exhausted her. Every time she turned around, it seemed there was more work to be done. More headaches. The servants — if they might be called such by any stretch of the imagination — were as blasé as any she had encountered. Truly, she was beginning to wonder if all the Welsh weren’t a bit touched in the head.

K
AT WALKED ALONG THE
seashore, feeling the waves rush up and curl around her feet. Heedless of the cold water seeping through her fine hose and shoes, she headed south along the border of cliffs lining the Trelane land.

Gulls screamed and swirled against the sky, white wings riding the currents. Kat brushed back a tendril of loose hair from her face and stared out to sea. The benign water glimmered and mocked her with its secrets: Somewhere out there, the skeletons of the
Fiach Teine
and her crew rested together in a watery grave.

Kat moved to a boulder where she might perch and watch the waves rolling ashore. She didn’t know what she looked for, nor what she hoped to find, but some measure of peace gradually stole over her, as she watched the sun sinking into the western sky.

The sea had been part of her once, a friend she might turn to in good times or bad. It was the balm for her troubled soul. Kat smiled a little. Had she changed? Aye. The water no longer held the fascination it once had for her. She felt no desire whatsoever to resume her life upon these capricious waters or to command a new ship under her own name.

She thought of all the things she had missed while she played at being a sailor: Wales; Falcon’s Lair; Morgan; most of all, a place she could call her own, where she could plant deep and permanent roots; a man she could love wholly, without reserve. Bit by bit, she felt her obsession with the sea dwindle and release its chokehold on her heart, just as a strangling vine is severed from a rose so that the flower might fully bloom.

“Rory,” she whispered, regretful, remembering the young man who had once sailed beside her. It seemed so long ago, now; another age, another life. A vision of Rory’s face, strong and clear, surfaced for the first time in months. For one aching, bittersweet moment, she looked into his aqua-colored eyes again, smoothing back the fiery mane of his glorious auburn hair.

“Kat, love,”
Rory called to her from his watery grave.

She rose on shaking legs and stared out to sea. “Sweet Jesu.” Guilt and shame warred within her at the possibility that Rory somehow lived in spirit and knew what she had done. She had failed to save her husband, then turned faithless to his memory nearly overnight. “I’m so sorry, Rory. Ahhh, Sweet Mother and Mary, what I wouldn’t give to relive that day again,” she shouted.

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