Honor in the Dust (3 page)

But that was not happening. Grace had good color in her cheeks as a rule, but now they were pale, and he could see her lips were trembling. “Claiborn, you're—you're home.”

“Aye, I am.”

A silence seemed to build a wall between them, and it was broken only when she whispered, “You know? About Edmund and me?”

“I knew nothing until yesterday, when Edmund told me.”

“I thought he might send you word.”

“He's not much of a one for writing.” Claiborn suddenly reached out and took her by the upper arm. He squeezed too hard, saw pain rise, and released his grip. “I can't believe it, Grace! I thought we had an understanding.”

Grace turned a little toward him. “An understanding of sorts,” she said quietly. “But that was a long time ago, Claiborn. Much has transpired since you left.”

He couldn't stop himself. Gently he reached out his hand to take hers. “I'm sorry. I was a fool.”

“You were young. We both were. Perhaps it is best that we leave it at that.” She turned her wide green eyes up to meet his.

He frowned. “Is that all it was to you? The passion of youth? Frivolity? Foolishness?”

“Nay,” she said softly, so softly that he wondered if he had misheard her. But then she repeated it, squeezing his hand. His heart surged. Her voice was unsteady as she said, “I did everything I could to get out of the marriage, Claiborn. I begged my father, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He's determined—and so is your brother.”

“I know Edmund is stubborn, but there must have been
some
way, Grace.”

“No, both your brother and my father see a woman as something to be traded. I don't think my father ever once thought of what I wanted, of what you and I once shared, of what would make me happy. Nor Edmund. He's never courted me. It is purely an arrangement that suits well—on the surface.”

Suddenly Claiborn asked, “Do you think you might come to love him, Grace?”

Tears came into Grace's eyes. “No,” she whispered. “Of course not! I love you, Claiborn. You must know that.”

Then suddenly a great determination came to Claiborn. He could not see the end of what he planned to do, but he could see the beginning—which would undoubtedly bring a period of strife. And yet any great battle worth fighting began in the same way. “We'll have to go to them both, your father and my brother,” he said. “We'll explain that we love each other, and we will have to make them understand.”

Grace shook her head. “It won't do any good, Claiborn. Neither of them will listen. Their minds are made up.”

“They'll have to listen!” Claiborn's voice was fierce. “Come. We'll talk to your father right now. And then I'll go try to reason with Edmund. My mother will come to my aid, I am certain.”

“I fear it will do no good—”

“But we must try.”

She accepted his other hand and met his gaze again. “Yes,” she said with a nod, “we must try.”

“Grace Barclay, if we manage this feat, would you honor me by becoming my bride?”

“Indeed,” she said, smiling, with fear and hope in her beautiful eyes.

“Come, then,” he said, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Let us see to it then.”

The two of them went inside and found Grace's father eating an apple. Claiborn knew there was no simple manner to enter the discussion at hand, so he said, “Mr. Barclay, forgive me for going against you and your arrangement with my brother, but I must tell you that Grace and I love each other. We want your permission to marry.”

John Barclay stared at the two, then hastily swallowed a mouthful of grapes. The juice ran down his chin, and his face was scarlet. “What are you talking about, man? I've told you, she's to marry your brother!”

“Father, I never cared for Edmund,” Grace said at once. She held her head up high and added, “I've loved Claiborn for a long time.”

“Have you lost your senses, girl? Sir Edmund is the lord of Stoneybrook. He has the money and the title. What does this man have? A sword and the clothes he has on his back!”

“But Father—”

“Not another word, Grace! You're marrying Edmund Winslow, and I'll hear no more about it!” Barclay turned to Claiborn, his face contorted with rage. “And you! What sort of brother are you? Coming between your brother and the woman he's sought for his wife! You're a sorry excuse for a man! Get out of here and never come back, you understand me?” He turned to Grace and shouted, “As for you, girl, go to your room! I'll have more words for you later!”

As Claiborn rode through the environs of Barclay Manor, he felt as if he had been in a major battle. He loitered on the way home, trying to put together a speech that might move Edmund after so utterly failing with John Barclay. When he reached the castle, he saw his brother out in the field with one of the hired hands. He was pointing out some fences, no doubt, that needed to be built, and he turned as Claiborn rode up and dismounted.

“Well, you ran off early this morning. What was so pressing that you could not even stop to break your fast?”

“I must have a word with you, Edmund.”

His brother said something to the field hand and then turned to walk beside Claiborn. “Well, what is it? Have you given thought to your profession?”

“No, no, it's about Grace.”

Edmund's eyes narrowed. “Grace? What about her?”

Claiborn faced his brother and said, “Grace and I love each
other. We have for a long time. Forgive me for this, but we wish to be married, Edmund.”

Edmund's face contorted into a look of confusion. “Have you lost your mind, Claiborn? She's engaged to me! Everyone knows about it.”

Claiborn began to try to explain, to reason, and even to plead with Edmund, but Edmund scoffed, “You were always a romantic dreamer, boy. But you are a man grown now. You must embrace life and all its practicalities, as I have. Think if it. The woman is handsome, yes, but what she brings to this estate is even more attractive. There will be another girl for you.”

“Perhaps Barclay will still give the land as Grace's dowry if she marries me.”

“Of course he won't! Are you daft? I'm the master here! Now don't be difficult about this, Claiborn. It's for the good of the House of Winslow. Let's hear no more about it.”

The thing could not be kept a secret, and soon everyone at both houses knew what had happened. Edmund made no secret of his displeasure. Finally, after three days, he found Claiborn, and his anger had hardened, but he gave Claiborn one more chance to quit his pursuit.

“Look you now, Claiborn,” he said. “You know you have no way to provide for a wife without me. And if you stubbornly pursue this one as your wife, I shall turn you out. What kind of a life would a woman have with you then? You know as well as I she'd be miserable. Grace has always had the best of everything. What would she have with you outside of the House of Winslow? Dirt, poverty, sickness, misery, that's what she'd have. You must see that.”

“But Edmund, we love each other. If you'd help me fit myself for a profession—”

“I
will
help you! I've said so already. But I'd be made to look
ridiculous if my own brother took my choice for a wife from me. A lord cannot be made to look the fool. It would bind me in every future arrangement I wanted to make. No, the die has been cast. You must live with what has transpired in your absence.”

Claiborn had never asked his brother for anything, and he hated to beg, but he pleaded with Edmund until he saw that it was useless.

“You cannot remain here,” Edmund said flatly. “Not feeling the way you do about my intended. Refusing to act as a man. Refusing the way of honor.”

“I cannot be the man God made me, honor what he has placed on my heart, and do anything but this!” Claiborn cried, arms out, fingers splayed.

Edmund stared at him for a moment and said coldly, “I never want to see you again, Claiborn. You have betrayed me, turned away from all I've given you!”

“And you did not betray me? You knew I courted Grace!”

“Once upon a time, as a young whelp! How was I to know you fancied a grand return, a romantic reunion? No, I deal with a man's responsibilities, and I shall move forward as that, as a man.”

Claiborn stared hard at him. “Mother will—”

“Mother will side with me. With the lord of Winslow. She knows her place.”

“Just as Grace will know it, right? Pretty, and placed in a corner, until you have need of her in your bed.”

“Get out. My bride is my family, my business. And you, you are no longer kin to me.”

“Grace, I've hoped you'd show more sense,” her father said. “You don't see life the way it is, so I can't let you make such a terrible mistake.”

“It would be a terrible mistake if I married a man I didn't love.”

“Nonsense! You've been unfairly influenced by those French romances. I knew I should not have allowed them in my house!”

Grace sighed. To be fair, she had placed him in a terrible position and had never challenged him on anything of note. Until now. “Father, I believe in
love
. Did you not once love my mother?”

“There was no nonsense. She understood how things progress between a man and a woman. She …” He colored, growing so frustrated in choosing his words that he shook his finger in her face. “My father and her father saw that there were advantages to our marriage, and we were obedient. We had a good life.”

Grace lost her mother to the fevers when she was fourteen, just as Claiborn had lost his father at the same age, but she well remembered how unhappy her mother had been, how she longed for affection but got very little from her husband. John had loved his wife, just as he loved his daughter, but he seemed incapacitated when it came to showing it.

“I love Claiborn, Father,” she repeated. “I beg you, don't force me to marry a man I don't love.”

John opened his mouth as if to say something in fury, then abruptly closed it, turning away from her. He took a step toward the fire burning in the hearth and ran a hand through his thinning hair. “We shall discuss it no further. You are marrying Sir Edmund Winslow. I shall see to it myself.”