Jennie About to Be (26 page)

“I'm all right,” she said. “It's past now.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, grinning like a boy. “I stopped off at the house and was shown your note. Christabel is
displeased
. You should have returned to the house even if it meant crawling on your hands and knees and vomiting all the way. Then you would have been taken home in the dogcart
or
”—he pointed one finger solemnly toward heaven—“been put to bed at Linnmore House.”

“A fate worse than death.” She groaned. “Were the Lamonts there?”

“No, and they displeased her, too. They sent word that some important connection was to arrive unexpectedly at Rowanlea, and they had to go there at once. Upon my word, Christabel was in a foul mood! I felt like a traitor leaving poor old Archie alone with her.” He took her cup away and held her hands. “They're cold. How do you feel now? Should I send for the doctor? Where in the devil is Fergus? I had to unsaddle Adam myself.”

“I'm sorry, dear. My fault. I said he was to exercise Dora after he left the note. And I don't need a doctor; I'm perfectly well.”

“Archie was gleefully rubbing his hands and singing a song of a bonny wee bairn. Christabel insists that the abominable food you eat is responsible, and the way you rush about puts too much strain on your delicate female constitutions.” He kissed her again, then kept his face close to hers. “Which is it, Jennie, my love?”

“I may be female but not delicate. I don't know about the other, so don't count your Gilchrists before they're hatched.” She took his face in her hands; the dear familiarity of it under her palms and fingers, the warmth of flesh and hardness of bone, she would remember all the length of her days. “I'll tell you what made me sick. I met Mr. Grant this afternoon.”

He jerked his head away from her hands. “The devil you did! Where? What did he say to put you in such a state? By God—I'll—” He pounded one fist into the other and jumped up.

“He said it first to Christabel, and I overheard. I ran out after him and asked him what was happening. He told me that the writs of eviction were being prepared this very afternoon and that you and Archie were there. You'd have to be, wouldn't you? Does Archie have to sign anything, or do you do that for him, too?”

He was staring at her as if the unimaginable worst had happened and destroyed both speech and thought. His fine color was muddied. The curves of his mouth, which she had always thought so pure and classic, seemed blurred, the lips pale and parched; he kept moistening them with his tongue.

“What else did he say to you?” he asked.

“That you were brought in to do the dirty work that Archie was too squeamish to do. Tell me that he was lying, Nigel,” she commanded, reaching for him, and then, as he made no move to meet her but looked at her with the hard blue glaze over his eyes, panic took her by the scruff of the neck, and she begged, “Tell me, Nigel! Please!”

He slumped down on the edge of the bed, his elbows on his knees and his yellow head in his hands.

“It's true, damn it,” he said in a muffled voice that sounded ready to break. “In spite of everything I've said, all my arguments, all my prayers, that harpy Christabel has the last word every time. You don't know how many hours I've spent with Archie trying to talk him out of it. He begins to see reason, and then I have to leave him to her, and the next day my work is all undone.” He groaned. “I'm so devilish tired of it, and
him
. I've been deceived, and shamefully used—damn' degrading, makes me feel like a whore.” He lifted his head and glared at her, red splashing his cheeks. “It's true Archie can't do his own dirty work; he's like Pilate, washing his hands of the whole business. He won't fish in the loch, or go to any other part of the estate, until it's all cleared out as if no one had ever lived there, and turned over to sheep. And
I
can't face them because of my conscience. Not if I can't promise them what they want to hear! I didn't go near any of them yesterday, Jennie. I lied to you.”

“Oh, Nigel!” This time when she held out her arms, he came into them and lay against her with his head on her breast. She embraced it, stroking his hair and kissing it. “My darling, how hideous for you. Why didn't you tell me what you were going through!”

“I kept thinking I'd win out and you'd never have to know that clearing had even been contemplated.”

“Don't ever make that mistake again. I'm not a delicate little strawberry blossom, to be blighted by the first frost! I could have helped, if only by listening.” She kissed his forehead and his eyelids, and he kept his eyes shut and smiled under the caresses.

“When I'm with you, I want to forget it. The blue devils don't exist. I want only to shut ourselves into our own fortress and pull up the drawbridge.” He opened her wrapper and fondled her breasts.

“But how could you have hidden it!” she protested. “As wretched as you've been?”

“Sh . . . sh . . .” He soothed her, and she lay back, giving herself up to his hands and mouth, luxuriating in her relief as well as her desire. She held him as if she had just found him again after a forced and terrifying absence.

But when the lovemaking was over, the facts were still there. Not only had the evictions been considered, but the process had begun. The writs were ready. The truth was going to erupt at Linnmore like a killing volcano. Her relief over Nigel's innocence and her loving compassion for him had obscured the view, but unless one turned and ran and never again looked back, there would be no escaping the molten lava flow and the poisonous shower of ash.

“Are you asleep, Nigel?” she murmured.

“No,” he mumbled against her hair. “I'm in a blessed stupor. Absolutely delectable. Don't disturb it.”

“I must.”

“Call of nature?”

“I wish that was all it was. Nigel, what about the writs of eviction?”

“They aren't to be served yet. I've persuaded Archie to hold off a few days. At least I think I have, unless that b—unless Christabel gets another promise out of him while he's drunk tonight. And he is going to be very drunk, mark my words. . . . But first he will have our father's portrait down off the wall.

“Why?”

“Because he can't stand the eyes. When he has a guilty conscience, the eyes follow him, so he swears. The Old Laird would never clear. He would have improverished himself rather than evict, and he married both times for love, not a fortune. Like his younger son.” He hugged her against him.

“If Archie has such a bad conscience about this, why does he do it? Does Christabel mesmerize him?”

“Perhaps it's a blow of defiance against our father. Remember the dogs.”

“He doesn't seem to take much joy in his defiance, if he has to get drunk to help him bear thinking about it.”

“Or to shut out Christabel,” said Nigel, yawning. He brought his teeth together very lightly on her earlobe. “I have such a soft mouth I'd make a capital spaniel, don't you think?”

“Yes, and you have the long silky ears, too, and the soulful eyes. . . . Nigel, what are we going to
do
? You know you can't go through with this.”

“The sheep are coming; we can't stop that. I can make weapons of all Archie's doubts, and they may be enough to defeat
her
. But I need him alone for a few days, absolutely separated from her.”

“How can you manage that? Will you get yourselves lost on the moor, so everyone will think you've been stolen by the fairies? And when you come back, Archie'll be a changed man. . . . But wouldn't it be easier to arrange to have Christabel stolen by the fairies and never returned?”

“They wouldn't have her!” He squeezed Jennie and they both laughed. “This is how it will be done, if you will help.”

“Anything!” she promised ardently.

“In the note Mrs. Lamont begs that both Mrs. Gilchrists drive to Rowanlea on Friday and make a long visit, at least until Sunday night or Monday morning, so that they can become acquainted with Mrs. Nigel and show her there is much life and gaiety in the Highlands even for someone lately come from London. I quote almost word for word.”

She put her arms around his neck. “Away from you for two or even three nights? How can I stand it? We will live to be extremely ancient, and I shall sleep in your arms and you in mine every night of that long life.” She sighed. “But if I must do this for Morag and Aili and the rest of them, then I must. How will you manage to convert Archie so Christabel can't undo your work?”

“It's devilish simple. When I have done convincing Archie, I shall simply renew the leases, and when Christabel returns, she can do nothing for another year. By then she will have no reason for swearing there is not room for both people and sheep.”

Her principal joy, at this moment, was in knowing that she had never doubted Nigel.

I
N THE EARLY MORNING
of Friday they clung together, kissing greedily, murmuring in broken, passionate fragments, as if they were illicit lovers about to be torn apart by their warring and probably murderous families.

“It's too soon to be separated, too soon,” she mourned. “Can't I send word that I have a chill? Or hint that the time of the month is wrong for me? I'll stay here in the room like an invalid, and you needn't come home all day—you'll have a free hand with Archie—Oh, Nigel, why not?”

“Because you're the reason for the visit, my darling, can't you see? The Lamonts are going to entertain for you. An all-female beanfeast. It's supposed to be a great lark. And speaking of larks, I hear one, and the sun is rising. It will be a fine day, a blessing on all our enterprises.”

“I
hope
I'm not making this sacrifice in vain,” she said grimly.

Morag and Aili packed for her. If she hadn't restrained them, she'd have gone with a trunkful of gowns and all her small supply of jewelry. “Heavens, I shan't be changing my clothes every hour,” she protested. “But they're all so pretty, Mistress,” Morag argued. “And the ladies will be wishing to see the latest London fashions.”

But Jennie had no desire to be a clotheshorse for anyone. She included a riding habit and, hopefully, her walking shoes. There had to be some escape from three days of Christabel.

Nigel came up to tell her the chaise was there. The girls slipped away, and he took Jennie in his arms. “Oh,
Nigel
.” A terrible thought was shaking her, and in a moment she would disintegrate. “What if you have an accident? What if your horse throws you? What if this is—” She couldn't say the words.
The last time I ever see you in this life
.

“My love, I am going to be spending most of the time safely in Linnmore House beating some sense into my brother's head. And after that I shall be
here
, renewing leases.”

He hugged her roughly and kissed her all over her face, and then walked her toward the stairs. “Dear God,” he said fervently, “I hate to see you go, but it's my only chance with Archie.”

Christabel was unusually amiable, smiling roguishly at Nigel, complimenting Jennie on her appearance. “That fawn is most becoming to you, Eugenia, and the scarf quite brings out your eyes. Really, you tan very nicely. Such a warm, pretty tint.”

Jennie kept a suitably modest expression and remarked with sincerity that the day was lovely. As the chaise rolled away from the factor's house, Christabel chatted dulcetly of the pleasures awaiting them at Rowanlea. Her maid sat opposite, in the marble attitude of one expected to be mute, deaf, and blind until spoken to.

Boxed in the chaise between Christabel's extraordinary behavior and the maid's stony immobility, Jennie knew she was not going to enjoy herself. But Christabel certainly intended to enjoy herself, and her woman might even be a blithe soul among the other servants. Iain would be comfortable around the stables, the best sort of men's club. . . . Or would he? He'd barely looked at her this morning when he touched his hat, and Dougal's freckled grin had been missing.” She couldn't remember if either had answered Nigel's hearty “
Good
morning, lain and Dougal Innes!”

But of course! They heard about the writs of eviction from Armitage, and they had no way of knowing that she and Nigel were not part of the plot. Perhaps she'd have the chance to say something to Iain today.

Christabel was promising treats as if Jennie were a favorite small niece when suddenly she broke off and said in the usual manner, “
Lily
!” It seemed to Bounce off the ceiling and sides of the chaise and vibrate in Jennie's ear. “Did you pack my sapphires?”

Lily's tongue flicked over her lips, and her eyes blinked rapidly behind their light lashes. “You didn't mention the sapphires, Madam.”

“I distinctly remember that I
did
! You
know
that I never wear my blue satin without my sapphires. What could you have been
thinking
of? This is very vexing! We must go back at
once
.”

Lily, looking not too concerned, pulled on the checkcord. When the horses slowed, she opened the door, leaned nonchalantly out, and called, “Home again!”

Iain didn't answer, but in a few minutes they took the turn to the left, past the western end of Linn Mor, and drove around to the mansion. Lily moved to leave, but Christabel elbowed her way out first, still sputtering. “I shall have to see to them myself, to make sure.”

The maid followed, barely flurried. She was paid excellent wages to keep her here, and knew she could make many a slip before Christabel would discharge her. Left alone in the chaise, Jennie took off her hat. She hoped that Nigel wasn't already at work inside the mansion delving for Archie's better nature. Christabel would soon put paid to that, unless Nigel did some expert lying. She couldn't endure sitting quietly and got out.