The Bride Insists (9 page)

Clare returned to the dining room. Gwen was clearing the dishes away; the room was otherwise empty. She suspected that the twins had gone to move Randolph to another location, but she wondered what had become of Selina. She checked her friend's bedchamber and found it empty. An intuition took her onward to the sewing room, and she met Selina coming out. “Well, we should get to work!” the older woman said. “What shall we tackle first?”

She looked remarkably determined, and her voice had a ringing, hearty quality Clare hadn't noticed in it before. “I came to see if you would go for a walk with me.”

“A walk?”

“I have an errand in the village.”

“Oh, an errand! Of course.”

The two women fetched hats and cloaks and set out. Clare took the path down to the village in the cove. “I asked Anna what education the twins have received,” she explained. The old woman had grown positively chatty after they listed the servants to be hired. She'd been lonely, Clare thought, and was delighted to have female company, as well as assistance. “We're going to talk with their most recent teacher.”

“It's difficult to believe they have had one,” Selina replied. “A French anarchist perhaps?”

Clare couldn't help but laugh. “They're not so bad.”

“My dear, you can see nefarious plots continually running behind their eyes. Perhaps this teacher set them lessons from Machiavelli?”

Smiling, Clare shook her head. “We will channel that intelligence into more positive pursuits.” She drew in deep lungfuls of the sharp sea air and admired the sparkle of the waves below. The sunshine and exercise cheered her. Trehearth was a lovely spot on a fresh March day like this one. She could learn to love it here, Clare thought, her mood lifting once again.

In ten minutes they had descended to the village and found their way to the pleasant stone vicarage beside the church. For reasons she could not quite define, Selina said nothing as they rang and were admitted by a pleasant housekeeper. The vicar was in, she told them, and they were conducted to a book-lined study that overlooked the churchyard.

Edward Carew rose from behind the desk. “Good morning,” he said. Against the light from the window, the tall thin man looked like one of the effigies from his church.

“Good morning, vicar,” said Clare. “I am Lady Trehearth, and this is my friend Mrs. Selina Newton. We had hoped to speak with you, if it is not inconvenient.”

“Not at all. Please sit down. Edward Carew, at your service. Good day, Mrs. Newton.” His warm smile acknowledged their previous meeting without making a point of it.

“I was talking with Anna Pendennis about Tamsyn and Tegan,” Clare continued. “I understand that you have been instructing them…”

“You?” burst from Selina. “They've been taught by a man of the cloth? But they're little better than savages.”

Carew stiffened in his chair. “I beg your pardon, but I cannot agree with you.”

“They wear boys' clothing,” Selina said. “They keep a huge intractable dog and apparently wander the countryside wholly unsupervised. They have the manners of street urchins. They—”

“Selina,” began Clare, startled by her friend's vehemence.

“They are two little girls who have been left alone far too much of the time,” snapped Reverend Carew before Clare could continue.

“From all I could see, they prefer it that way.”

“Selina!” said Clare more forcefully. “Reverend Carew.”

Selina sat back in her chair and looked down, flushed. The vicar pressed his lips together as if shocked at himself. “Pray excuse me,” he said. “I spoke hastily.”

“I hoped we might discuss how best to deal with Tamsyn and Tegan in the future,” Clare said in a calming tone. “I understand they have had a governess—or two.”

“Indeed,” the man answered, still a bit stiff. “They attended an infants' school here in the village when they were very small and learned basic reading and writing and sums. Over the last four years, they have had three governesses. All of them left after a very short time, so I don't imagine they taught much. The question of school was… broached. They flatly refused to leave home. Their reluctance and the matter of… fees ended that discussion.”

“So Jamie… Lord Trehearth has tried to make provision for their education?” began Clare. The word “alone” rang in her ears.

“Of course. Repeatedly. I know it has been quite difficult for him.”

Hearing a lingering tinge of reproof, Clare added, “Anna told me that their mother died at their birth?” She'd said that the twins had come after several miscarriages, when their mother was a bit old for childbearing.

Carew nodded. “I was not here then.”

“And then their father was killed very soon after, in a fall from the cliffs. Was that at the house?”

“No, he was walking along the shore a mile or so away, I believe.”

That was a relief. She wouldn't have wanted to think of a death from her very doorstep.

Selina wondered at their host's altered tone. Mrs. Pendennis was the same when the subject of the former baron arose. People didn't seem to want to talk about him.

“Lord Trehearth was only sixteen,” Clare pointed out. “A boy of that age is hardly equipped to care for babies.” Clare thought of two infants abruptly orphaned, and of Jamie, so young himself, suddenly in charge of them. Called home from school and presented with an estate in shambles and two tiny sisters, it must have been very frightening. Clare's own childhood seemed idyllic in contrast. For fifteen years, she'd had two loving parents and a big brother with no more cares than passing his examinations and winning a coveted military commission. Her home had been nurturing. Her three years of school had been interesting and full of friendships. Tamsyn and Tegan had had none of these things. For the first time, her heart went out to them. Clare realized that her companions were looking at her. Had one asked a question?

“Since the departure of their last governess, the twins' education has come mainly from me,” Reverend Carew said.

Selina pressed her lips together.

“We first met tramping about the countryside,” explained the vicar. “I discovered that we shared an interest in local history and botany. Knowing something of their… situation, I… Well, I suppose I lured them into a few lessons.” His blue eyes glinted. “Baited with my housekeeper's excellent scones.”

“So you probably know the girls better than anyone except the Pendennises?” Clare said. “Anna said it's been three years or more since she could keep up with them.”

Carew nodded. “Tamsyn and Tegan are very intelligent and curious children. They will work hard at subjects that interest them.”

“And not at all at those that don't,” suggested Clare.

“True, I'm afraid. They're not much used to discipline.”

“Discipline?” echoed Selina. “As far as I can see, they don't know the meaning of the word.”

“Oh, they're quite good with words, particularly Tamsyn,” responded the vicar, his blue eyes meeting Selina's hazel ones. Clare almost felt she could hear a sound, like swords clashing.

“Lord Trehearth might have made more use of one particular word—‘no.'”

“If he had been here,” was the vicar's acid response.

Clare felt she should defend her husband. But it was true that Jamie had not seemed overly concerned with his sisters. His failure to mention them was only the most obvious sign of it. His attention was focused on restoring his acres and how he was viewed by his neighbors.

“He
has
tried,” interjected the vicar. His thin cheeks had reddened. “Pardon me if I spoke too rashly once again. Lord Trehearth has had more than his full share of problems to overcome. But I can tell you one thing. At this point, it's very little use scolding the twins.”

Clare was glad to hear her own conclusions echoed. “They are inured to it.”

The vicar nodded.

“Well, I don't intend to scold.” When the others turned to look at her, she added, “I have quite another plan.”

Selina looked dubious. Edward Carew was impressed with her ladyship's insight and the compassion he saw in her face. Many people dismissed Tamsyn and Tegan Boleigh as hooligans. He thought that it took a rather special person to see through their belligerent manner so quickly.

“I hope you will keep up your lessons with the twins,” Clare went on. “They've had so many changes. If that's all right with you, of course.” Perhaps the vicar had been looking forward to relinquishing this responsibility.

“Quite all right,” he said. “Although…”

“They must also attend to those subjects that do
not
interest them,” Clare replied. “I know, I will see to that.”

“Really?” Edward Carew wondered if the new lady of Trehearth really understood what she was up against. And then he thought that perhaps she did.

“We must go back,” Clare added, rising. “There's so much to do at the house.”

“And great speculation in the neighborhood about what is going to be done,” said the vicar, also standing.

She liked him, Clare thought. Despite his sharp remarks, the twinkle in his blue eyes was thoroughly good-humored. From the tone of her farewells, however, it seemed that Selina might not share her good opinion.

When they reached Trehearth House once more, Clare found that Anna Pendennis had solved one of her dilemmas by recruiting a team of cleaners. “There's lots who aren't looking for regular positions, but'd like to earn a bit extra for a one-time job,” she told her. “They can come up whenever you like.”

“Send for them,” Clare replied. “The sooner we tackle all this dirt, the better.”

***

Thus, Jamie returned from his consultation about cottage repairs to a whirlwind of activity. There seemed to be village women, and a few boys, everywhere—scrubbing floors and walls, polishing windows, beating carpets in the courtyard. For a while, he couldn't even find Clare, and when he did, she seemed too busy to speak to him, moving through the chaos like a general marshaling her troops. He retreated to the estate office, which had not yet been touched, and tried to look over some accounts. He was tired from another day riding the land and oppressed by the size of the task ahead of him.

He was also beginning to be concerned that he hadn't asked for sufficient funds in the marriage agreement. Restoring Trehearth was going to cost even more than had been designated for the task. But the idea of going to Clare with this discovery and requesting more money grated on his sensibilities. A man who married an heiress got a fortune; that was understood. It was the way of the world. He didn't have to beg, hat in hand, for the advance of another thousand pounds. He took charge of his own destiny. Otherwise, what was the point? It was certainly what Jenkins the builder, and no doubt the rest of the neighborhood, expected to be the case. Jamie went to a cabinet in the corner and poured himself a small brandy. He needed to give it time, he told himself. Clare was already fully occupied with the house, not to mention the twins. Before long, she would be delighted to hand over the financial reins to him. Patience was all that was required. The trouble was, his mind was filled with projects that could not wait.

***

The five of them sat down to dinner that evening in a sparkling dining room, with a snowy, if much mended, cloth on the table. Mrs. Pendennis's meal might have been only passable, but the candlesticks shone and the chafing dishes on the sideboard no longer had a spot of tarnish. Clare found the change immensely satisfying. “I understand that the service is at ten tomorrow in the village church,” she said. “Is it your custom to walk down?”
Was
there
even
a
carriage
here?
she wondered. She hadn't had time to examine the stables. Jamie had his mount. Were there other horses?

Jamie had forgotten that the next day was Sunday. His heart sank. He reached for his wineglass and drank.

“We don't go to church,” said Tamsyn.

“You have to wear dresses,” agreed Tegan.

“And sit still for ages,” added her sister.

“And be quiet.”

“Everyone stares so,” said Tegan.

“And says ‘you poor little things.'”

“As if we were infants.”

Both twins glared at Clare as if this were somehow her fault.

“We will all attend church,” Clare stated. She had always done so, and she was shocked to find that the girls had not, especially after learning they had lessons with the vicar.

The twins' heads swiveled to their brother, clearly expecting him to object.

Jamie nodded heavily. As a landowner and the head of his family, he must take his place in their traditional pew. But he would have liked a little more time before he faced all the neighbors. It suddenly occurred to him that one usually received a round of calls on the occasion of marriage. The neighborhood must know of the wedding. But no one had called at Trehearth; no one had acknowledged him or his new wife.

He'd never made himself part of local society. He was barely acquainted with his neighbors. It had always been too humiliating to mingle with them as his estate fell in ruin. Wary of their pity and disapproval, he'd turned to his London friends for society and solace. That must change now, but he dreaded it. The twins were right; people would stare. In fact, they would gape—surreptitiously. The whole service would be like being onstage. He poured a third glass of wine. At least his grandfather's cellar had survived the wreck of their fortunes. It still contained ranked bottles of quite decent vintages.

“We won't go,” said Tegan.

“You can't make us,” said Tamsyn.

Was
this
where
Clare
“handled” his sisters?
Jamie wondered. Or was it just another occasion when he shouted himself hoarse with absolutely no effect?