You Only Love Twice (14 page)

“I don’t likes the milk. It tastes funny.”

“It’s farm milk,” she protested. “It’s fresh and creamy, that’s all.”

“Well, I don’t likes it!”

“And,” another voice piped up, “the butter tastes funny as well.”

Arms akimbo, Jessica surveyed her charges with patent dislike. They’d lived in hovels. They’d been abused, starved and beaten. And they had the gall to find fault with the wholesome, nourishing food she had taken the trouble to cook for them? Ungrateful wretches! No wonder their parents had abandoned them.

It was a wicked thought, but knowing that it was wicked didn’t make her feel any better. “Fine,” she said, “then you’ll sit there till … till I say you can leave.” Then, as an afterthought, “Wouldn’t you like to be with the other boys? Wouldn’t you like to help Joseph build a new wagon? Or you could help the sisters weed the vegetable plot.”

“Not if we ’as to eat this slop.”

Pip, again, the ringleader. And to think, that these boys had all been specially chosen to come to Hawkshill because the mother superior thought they were the most promising! If she had her way, she would send them back on the next stage.

Well, they wouldn’t wear her down. And just to show them she meant business, she stomped to the great granite sink, rolled up her sleeves and began to wash the dirty pots. They could sit there forever for all she cared. She knew one thing: if she backed down now they would take advantage of her forevermore.

Zzzz.

Jessica jerked, and water from the pot spilled down the front of her apron. She put the pot down and slowly turned. “Who made that sound?” she asked in a dangerously soft voice. The little monsters knew that she was terrified of bees and wasps.

Six innocent faces stared back at her.

When no one answered, she turned back to the sink and started over. They weren’t going to get a rise out of her.

Zzzz.

Her lips turned up. They really were little monsters, but maybe she deserved it. She’d been like a bear with a sore tooth ever since she’d seen Lucas … no … that kiss had nothing to do with it … ever since she’d had a set-to with the constable yesterday. And the visit he had paid them today had only aggravated her temper. Joseph had left a message for him and when he got it, the constable had ridden hell-for-leather to Hawkshill.

She was surprised that his horse could hold him. Constable Clay was built like an ox. He was old, older than Sister Dolores, but what really annoyed her was that he didn’t seem interested in solving her father’s murder, any more than he was interested in their burned-out wagon.

And he had a temper.

“I expected to find you all murdered in your beds,” he’d roared. “You called me out for a burned-out wagon? This is child’s play! A mischievous prank! I have more important things to see to than this.”

The sisters and Joseph had been chastened, but not she. And when she’d found herself alone with the constable, she’d told him exactly what she thought of him—and a few other things she shouldn’t have said.

Zzzz.

Those boys were incorrigible! No. They were only mischievous, and after all they’d been through in their short lives, it was a good sign.

“Sister Martha,” said Martin, “there really is a wasp in your kitchen.”

She turned. “Really?” she said brightly, as though wasps meant nothing to her. “Where?” There was no wasp. She shook her head. “I can take a joke, but you really mustn’t tell lies.”

“But Sister Martha—” said Pip, just as the door was flung back on its hinges, making them all jump.

Lucas entered, scowling. “I just came from Chalford,” he said, “where I happened to bump into Constable Clay.” His voice rose to a roar. “You damn well accused me of—”

“Lord Dundas!”

Her sharp reproof cut him off short. He looked at the boys. “Out!” he said and held the door for them.

The gleeful boys began to rise from their places. “Sit down!” said Jessica in her most imperious manner. When the boys slowly sank back, she looked at Lucas. “They are not going anywhere,” she said, “not until they eat what’s in front of them. If you wish to speak to me, you may wait in the little parlor. It’s behind the dining room.”

“I’ll wait here,” he replied in a voice that brooked no argument.

No one moved. No one said anything. Six glum boys
stared at their plates. Jessica went back to washing her pots.

“So what’s wrong with your dinner?” asked Lucas, enlightenment finally dawning.

Pip answered him. “We’re not eating no toads,” he said.

“Sausages!” shrilled Jessica. “They’re sausages. How many times do I have to tell you? ‘Toad in the hole’ is only a name. It doesn’t mean … oh, eat your dinner and let’s have no more of this nonsense.”

Again, no one moved. After a long interval of silence, Lucas’s lips quirked. Finally, he said, looking at Pip, “Give me your plate.”

Pip handed over his plate and Lucas shoveled a huge forkful of sausage into his mouth. After a moment, he said, with his mouth still full, “Who said these were sausages?”

“Sister Martha,” chorused the boys.

“Sister Martha?” His brows rose, and he looked at Jessica. “Well, Sister Martha is mistaken. These are toads, all right.”

Jessica glared at him. Now they would never eat their dinner.

“I know,” said Lucas, “because I eat toads all the time.”

The boys gasped.

He swallowed the mouthful of sausage and started on another. “Well, all soldiers do. And prizefighters, like Joseph. That’s how we get to be soldiers and fighters. But sniveling little weaklings of boys never do. And when they grow up, they become sniveling little weaklings of men. And do you know what? Joseph and I make short work of them. Now, eat your dinner.”

The boys reluctantly picked up their forks and began to jab at the sausages in the pudding, but they did not eat. Jessica flashed Lucas a superior smile. He grinned back at her.

“And,” said Lucas, “the first boy to finish can have a ride on my stallion. That is, when I finish my conversation with Miss … er … Sister Martha.”

“A ride on a stallion!” Pip drove his fork into the pudding, came up with a sausage and gingerly tasted it. “It ain’t ’alf bad,” he said, and drove his fork in again. The other boys needed no further encouragement. In a matter of minutes, they had cleaned their plates and would have charged out the door had Jessica not reminded them of their chores. In double-quick time, they cleared the table, stacked the dishes, then whooped out of the kitchen like an Indian war party from one of the stories she’d read to them at bedtime.

Jessica glanced longingly at the open door. It belatedly occurred to her that she and Lucas were alone in the house. If she’d been thinking straight, she would have left with the boys. Her gaze quickly returned to Lucas when he took a step toward her. “That was bribery,” she said. “We don’t use those tactics here.”

“What does it matter? I helped you save face. You should be thanking me.”

And she would have, if she weren’t angry with him. He was stalking her, and that made her nervous. As he advanced, she retreated, carefully keeping the table between them. “They’ll be expecting a reward the next time—”

“Stop prevaricating,” he suddenly yelled. “You know why I’m here.”

“If it’s about Constable Clay—”

“You know damn well it’s about Constable Clay. You accused me of murdering your father. Don’t try to deny it. Clay told me himself.”

Had she gone that far? She’d said a lot of things to the constable in the heat of the moment. “He must have misunderstood. All I said was that he should keep an open mind. He’s known you and your friends forever. He’s
prejudiced in your favor. Look how he came running to you today.”

He put his hands on the flat of the table and leaned toward her. “You also accused me of setting fire to your rickety old wagon and wringing the neck of your scrawny chicken.”

Her hand fluttered to her throat. “I was making a point,” she cried out. “I was trying to get him to think like an officer of the law. He should be suspicious of everyone and everything, and not take what his friends tell him at face value.”

His eyes narrowed on her face. “What’s made you change your mind about me, Jess?” A light came on in his eyes. “I saw your wagon, yesterday, from the ridge. That’s it, isn’t it? You saw me on the ridge.”

“Listen!” she hissed.

He straightened. “What is it?”

Zzzz.

“A wasp!” she shrieked. “There it is! Lucas, help me!”

She batted her hands in front of her face, then came charging round the table, straight into Lucas’s arms. Her momentum carried him backward and they both went tumbling to the floor.

The wasp buzzed over their heads and out the door that slowly swung inward.

“Hello? Hello? Is anyone at home?” The voice was cultured and belonged to the woman who had kissed Lucas when they were riding on the ridge.

Lucas hauled Jessica to her feet. “Bella!” he exclaimed. “What the devil are you doing here?”

Jessica had expected to be embarrassed when she finally met up with Bella again. After all, she felt horribly guilty for what she’d done. And to have been discovered rolling on the floor, entwined in Lucas’s arms, exceeded her worst nightmares. But the kind of shame she experienced
now was new to her, and she was ashamed of being ashamed.

She was sitting in a straight-backed chair opposite Bella in the small parlor. Lucas was on her right and Sisters Elvira and Dolores were to the left of her. As the conversation went on around her, she watched Bella’s keen eyes search out every blot and blemish, and as she mentally pounced on them, Jessica winced. She was seeing things through Bella’s eyes and she was ashamed, ashamed of herself and her work-worn hands and serviceable garments, ashamed of the parlor with its threadbare carpet and oddments of cast-off furniture that their neighbors had passed on to them, ashamed of the chipped cups and saucers and the misshapen biscuits the boys had helped her bake. Everything was shabby and run-down, and either she had never noticed it, or it had never mattered to her until now.

She looked at Bella and saw perfection. There wasn’t a hair out of place; her skin was flawless; her white muslin gown with its short blue Spencer jacket looked fashionable and expensive. Bella even smelled expensive. Jessica was well aware that the loveliness did not penetrate below the surface. Since they’d entered the parlor, Bella had dominated the conversation. She’d asked a few perfunctory questions about Hawkshill, then she’d turned the conversation on herself. She dropped the names of famous personages the way their boys dropped their aitches. Bella wanted to impress them. Jessica knew all this and it didn’t seem to matter. In Bella’s presence, she felt diminished.

She couldn’t help looking at Lucas to see what effect Bella had on him. He was watching Bella intently and Jessica wondered if he was still in love with her. A splinter seemed to pierce her heart, and when Lucas turned his head to look at her, she quickly averted her gaze.

Bella had now returned to the topic of Hawkshill, but her eyes were as busy as ever, and this time they had come to rest on Sister Elvira. In one long, comprehensive stare,
she absorbed everything about the little nun, her plump face with its sparse eyelashes, her rotund figure in its grubby habit, and she dismissed her with a flick of her lashes. Jessica thought of the tireless hours the sisters worked, their self-sacrifice, their pleasure in simple things, their unshakable faith, and a spark of resentment ignited inside her. Bella had wanted to make her feel small and she’d succeeded. Maybe she deserved to feel small for what she’d done. But she would tolerate no insult to the nuns.

Bella’s eyes suddenly narrowed on her, and Jessica’s spine stiffened. “As I said,” said Bella in her beautifully modulated voice, “we are all eager to do our part to make a success of Hawkshill.” She paused dramatically. “And I have come up with the idea of a subscription ball.”

“A subscription ball,” said Sister Elvira carefully.

“Oh, it won’t cost you a penny,” said Bella. “I’ve talked it over with my husband and he thinks it’s a wonderful idea. We’ll host it, of course, and have invitations printed.” She laughed. “We wouldn’t want just anyone attending, now would we? But at the door, when guests present their cards, they’ll have to fork out the price of admission. And after the ball, we’ll turn over the money we’ve made to Hawkshill.”

Sister Dolores said, “We’re always short of money. I think that’s a splendid idea. How kind of you to think of it.”

Sister Elvira slipped her hands inside the sleeves of her habit and maintained a thoughtful silence.

Lucas leaned forward, arms on his knees, hands clasped together. “And when are you thinking of holding this ball?”

“As soon as it can be arranged,” said Bella. “In fact, the sooner the better. Rupert
will
have his Tenants’ Ball, you know, so it must be before that.”

“Why not after?” said Lucas.

“Why should we wait?” countered Bella.

Lucas glanced at Jessica, then turned back to Bella. “I’m not sure that Jessica is up to such a grand event.”

“My dear Lucas, I shall be there to help her;” She smiled at Jessica. “And this is an ideal way to reintroduce her to Chalford society.”

Jessica had been following the conversation carefully. She’d known something was coming, but not this. Her initial surprise at Bella’s generous offer was quickly swallowed up in shock. They were expecting
her
to attend? She couldn’t do it, not without the sisters, and she knew perfectly well that they would not go. She wouldn’t enjoy it. In fact, it would be purgatory. If she ever knew how to dance, she had forgotten it. She didn’t know how to go on in society, how to make small talk, how to … She didn’t know what was expected of her, and it terrified her. And she had nothing to wear.

Bella knew all this, and she had offered to help her.

Aye, and pigs could fly.

Lucas spoke to Sister Elvira. “I must advise against it.”

“But why?” asked Bella with a light laugh.

“For the reason I’ve already given. Jessica isn’t ready for such a grand affair. She’s been a nun for three years. She doesn’t know how our world works. A ball for Jessica would be like a debut, a coming-out. Afterward, she would be expected to take her place in society.” He chanced a quick look at Jessica and said abruptly, “She’s not ready for it, that’s all.”