Lord Clayborne's Fancy (9 page)

“And yet, had you stayed with the carriage you would have had his protection, and that of Miss Turnpeck. In leaving them you had none.”

“We came to no harm, my lord.”

“I realize that, but I am responsible to your parents for Meg while she is with us.”

“I am gratified that you feel such a  responsibility for my sister, sir. I shall remember in future to consult you on her protection.”

Clayborne regarded his wife with a puzzled frown which turned to chagrined enlightenment. “I was not saying that I do not feel responsible for you, Rebecca. You cannot believe that,” he protested, his hand pushing distractedly through his brown hair. “I simply do not want to see either of you come to any harm, and it would have been safer, surely, to stay with the carriage.”

“Yes, but then we should have missed all the fun. I think it rather paltry in you that you intended to exclude us from such a treat as seeing a balloon descent in the country,” she retorted.

“My concern was with those in need of help. I am sorry that I did not inform you where I was gone. Perhaps I should have done so, but frankly I did not think of it in the excitement.”

Rebecca bit her lip in an effort to suppress her amusement at his confession. Then she was overcome not by the humor but the pathos of the situation and said sadly, regarding her feet fixedly, “It is so easy for you to forget me.”

“I never forget that you are my wife,” Clayborne returned, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “I have apologized for my abandonment of you, and I was sure you would understand my decision to help the balloonists.”

“Of course I do. And I admit that I was not as sure that you would approve of our following you, but I did not do it intentionally to annoy you.”

“No,” he conceded, “I am sure it was merely your desire for a lark, and perhaps your irritation with me for leaving you behind. You seem to regard such instances as a challenge to you.”

Rebecca lifted angry eyes to his. “Maybe I do. I have found no way to deal with you, Jason. Being humble and apologetic would not agree with me, you see, and I fear that is the only attitude you would willingly accept from me.”

Clayborne experienced a feeling of unreality, standing in the afternoon sun in the middle of a journey discussing their marriage. Those angry blue eyes squinting in the brilliance were the same eyes that a year ago had been full of laughter and fun. Under the anger there was a sadness he could respond to, but he firmly reminded himself that it was her own fault. She had deceived him and she had no right to expect their marriage to be otherwise.

“What I expect from you as my wife is an observance of the proprieties and a modicum of obedience to my wishes. I do not think that is asking too much of you.”

“Perhaps not. But as we are on the subject, Jason, I might let you know that what I expect of you as my husband is companionship and a modicum of respect for myself. Obviously that is asking far too much of you, since I receive neither.”

“As my wife I have endowed you with my name, my position, and my wealth. I consider those the only things you have any right to ask of me,” Clayborne snapped in his annoyance.

“I realize that, my lord. And I constantly remind myself that, believing what you do, it is not an unreasonable attitude. Unkind and uncharitable, perhaps, but not unreasonable. My sister and Miss Turnpeck are waiting. Shall we proceed to London?”

He did not answer, but walked with her to the waiting carriage and handed her in, said a word to Miss Turnpeck, and returned to swing himself, disgruntled, onto his horse.

Miss Turnpeck was inclined to spend a lengthy time scolding the sisters for wandering about the countryside, though in all honesty she had not been aware of it, having slept until Meg returned to the carriage. Though Meg appeared suitably chastised, Rebecca chafed under the additional censure.

“Miss Turnpeck, I do not wish to appear disrespectful, but I am no longer in the schoolroom, and I will admit to no one but Lord Clayborne ringing a peal over me for my conduct. And it was no fault of Meg’s, for I urged her to come with me, and would have gone alone had she not. It was my understanding that marriage would offer me the advantage of some freedom from chaperonage.” She smiled ruefully at the subdued governess. “I lent the weight of my married state to our little expedition. Not that Clayborne approved, you understand. Far from it. But as he has already combed my hair over the matter, I really do not wish to discuss it further.”

As they left Guildford behind, having heard Clayborne arrange assistance for the balloonists, Rebecca said, “Now, let us talk about our plans for London.”

Chapter Seven

Rebecca’s stand with the governess greatly surprised her sister. Being a shy and obedient young lady herself, Meg could not imagine speaking so to her governess, but she was much impressed with Rebecca’s calm self-possession. Nevertheless, Meg was startled by the change in her sister since the wedding. She found Rebecca, though in her usual healthy good looks, to be more subdued than was her wont. And yet, when Rebecca had told her stories and giggled with her, and skipped stones by the brook, Meg had recognized her sister’s old high spirits.

Imps of mischief had danced in Rebecca’s eyes when she showed Meg the sketches from the dinner party at Christmas. “These are the Misses Blackwell. I have only slightly exaggerated them, I promise you.”

“But why would Jason invite two such formidable ladies for you to entertain? Surely there is more enjoyable company in the neighborhood.”

“If so, I haven’t met them,” Rebecca murmured ruefully. She was not about to tell her sister that Clayborne had carefully chosen his guests for their influence in the neighborhood—for good or ill. When you are attempting to scotch rumors of marital discord, you are very particular about whom you invite. The drawings of Sir John and his wife were placed before Meg. “I understand they have any number of children, but I have not as yet met them.”

“Oh? Well, you should make an effort to do so, Becka. They will think you inhospitable. I am surprised Jason has not suggested it.”

Rebecca merely nodded and distracted her sister’s attention with the drawings of the vicar and Dr. Baker. Inadvertently she had allowed two sketches of Clayborne to accompany these, but she hurriedly whisked them out of sight. Although Meg caught only a brief glimpse of them, her interest was aroused. Knowing full well that Rebecca had not intended her to see them, she said nothing, but her curiosity was too strong for her and she had actually sneaked into her sister’s room, feeling many a pang of guilt, to scrutinize these drawings when Rebecca was out riding.

Since Meg was more than a little in awe of his lordship, she had been scandalized by the irreverent way in which her sister had pictured him, once as a toad king of the mountain with a totally forbidding expression, and once seated at a dining table, where his smoldering anger was portrayed as singeing the hair of the footman serving him, while Rebecca herself was a mouse seated far away at the other end of the table.

Meg flushed with embarrassment and could not stifle the involuntary “Dear God!” which escaped her lips. There were, in addition, sketches of the servants at Gray Oaks, which were kindly, if amusing, and one of Clayborne gently exploring a horse for splinters, but Meg’s eyes had again and again gone back to the first two sketches. She was afraid to think what they might mean and quickly bundled up the lot and returned them to their folder.

Meg was thoroughly perplexed by the sketches, and wished that she understood her sister’s situation, but she did not really want Rebecca to confide in her, as she was sure she could not handle anything disagreeable. Since she had been a party to Rebecca’s few clandestine meetings with Thomas Burns, she was not sure she believed her sister’s protestations that there was no longer any emotion spent there. Rebecca had been sad when Thomas married and Meg’s romantic nature led her to imagine that her sister harbored an undying, unrequited love. Perhaps she affected such a belief because her own intense attachment to Will did not enable her to suppose that her love for him would or could diminish regardless of circumstances.

On the other hand Rebecca had seemed genuinely fond of Clayborne when they married, though it must be admitted she had not demonstrated a decided tendre. For the most part Meg remembered her sister’s comments on Clayborne’s kindness and intelligence, and Meg herself had been cognizant of these attributes when she had met him prior to the wedding.

Now, however, she found him rather distant, and although he exerted himself to entertain them, several of his encounters with her sister which she had happened to observe were censorious. Meg lay awake their first night at Clayborne House pondering these problems, but as her thoughts quite naturally settled on Will, she dismissed her worries and fell asleep, content.

Miss Turnpeck, in her turn, first meditated on the kindly observance paid her by Lord Clayborne at dinner that evening, then became agitated when she remembered Rebecca’s firm words to her in the carriage. Rebecca had never been shy and obedient as Meg and Trudy, nor was she so ramshackle as Mary, but she had been high-spirited and independent. Too independent by half, Miss Turnpeck thought, remembering the proud way in which Rebecca had spoken to her that day. Didn’t wish to discuss it further, indeed!

And yet Miss Turnpeck had been just the tiniest bit pleased, she had to admit grudgingly to herself, that Rebecca was becoming a self-possessed woman. In the past she had been confused by Rebecca’s hoydenish ways, yet she of the four daughters had taken a real interest in her studies, surpassing Miss Turnpeck in her desire for knowledge. On numerous occasions Miss Turnpeck had surprised her, comfortably ensconced in the ancient and generally unused Farthington Hall library, perusing any of a number of books, familiarity with which the governess considered unnecessary for a young woman of her position. And some of them no doubt improper, though as Miss Turnpeck was not acquainted with them she could not be sure.

Miss Turnpeck tucked her wispy gray hair under a plain nightcap and, noting the extreme comfort of her bed, was soon gently snoring.

Although Rebecca had been to Clayborne House with her mother and Clayborne during her betrothal, she had not spent a right in the house. It was an impressive Palladian residence situated in Berkeley Square and Rebecca found it rather intimidating after the less formal atmosphere of Gray Oaks. She had been considerably startled, on arriving at her suite of rooms, to discover that they had been refurbished. While a housemaid serving as her abigail helped her to undress for the night she asked, “Do you know when these chambers were done over?”

“No, my lady. They was this way when I come here after Christmas,” the young woman replied shyly.

“What is your name?” Rebecca asked kindly.

“Harpert, my lady.”

“Do you like being at Clayborne house?”

“Oh, yes, it’s ever so much nicer than my last situation. Such a fine house and his lordship ever so considerate. Once when I was dusting in the library Lord Clayborne come in and saw me looking at pictures of sailing ships in a book. My brother goes to sea and it made me feel good to look at them, you know. So his lordship says I can come to look at them when he’s not about, so long as I don’t get in trouble with the housekeeper. Now wasn’t that nice of him?”

“Yes, indeed. And have you read more about the ships?”

“I can’t read, you see, but I do look at the pictures now and again. I should like to know more about them, but the pictures is wonderful.”

“Would you like to learn to read?”

“Oh, yes, milady, for you can never be a housekeeper ‘less you can read. But there is no one to teach me,” she said sadly.

“Perhaps we should surprise your brother when he returns,” Rebecca suggested. “I shall spend a half hour a day with you and we shall see how you go on.”

“You would do that? But why?” she asked skeptically.

“I believe that women must know a little something to get on. As you said, you could never be a housekeeper if you cannot read. Does your brother know how to read?”

“Yes. My uncle taught him when he was young. He can read anything,” she proclaimed proudly.

Rebecca laughed. “And so shall you, Harpert, if you will work at it. Now tell me, when would be the best time for our lessons?”

“We’re up early when his lordship is in residence, of course, and there is a bit of a break after breakfast is cleared, milady.”

“Tomorrow when I have finished breakfast I shall meet you in the old schoolroom. I am sure there will be plenty of books there for us to use. You need only tell the housekeeper I have asked you to attend me.”

“Thank you, milady.”

When Harpert had seen her ladyship to bed and assured her that the staff had been pleased to hear that her ladyship was to accompany his lordship this time, she withdrew and left Rebecca to her thoughts.

These were not exactly comforting, might in fact have been called mortifying, as Rebecca had not even been aware that Clayborne had been in residence in the house since their marriage. It had occurred to her at Christmas that he must have been in London to have met his Uncle Henry, but she had not pursued the thought, since she was engrossed in drawing some enjoyment from the holiday season. He had obviously been here since then, as Harpert had not even come to Clayborne House by Christmastime. How many times had he been here? How long did he stay? What did he do when he was in London? Rebecca felt angry frustration well up in her. She was in an intolerable position and she must make some decision soon as to her future.

In answer to the light tap on the connecting door between their rooms, she bade Clayborne come in. He entered carrying a candle, his maroon silk dressing gown glowing in the flickers of light, and his brown hair was slightly disarrayed.

“I will no doubt have left the house on business before you arise tomorrow,” he said stiffly, “and I wished to consult you on arrangements for tomorrow evening.”

“Please sit down, Jason. It makes me nervous having you hover over me with a dripping candle.” Rebecca smiled. “I wish to thank you for the changes in my rooms; they are delightful.”