Household (14 page)

“Lord, man! Are you hurt?” Weir called back.

“No,” Colin answered breathlessly. “Miranda’s steadier now. The bats must have frightened her.”

“I’m not surprised, poor creature. They certainly alarmed me.”

“I thought ’twas the other way around.”

“What would you be meaning by that?” There was a cold edge to his companion’s voice.

“They almost seemed to fly away at your command.” Weir laughed now. “Then you’ll need to be afraid of me.”

“Afraid?”

“I’d be frightened of anyone who could scatter bats by willing it. Also I’d be grateful for his presence. I hate the pesky things myself.”

“I don’t suppose I hate any animal,” Colin mused.

“You’re a good-natured young man,” Weir commented. “And you’re a good-natured old man.” Colin’s merry laughter rang out. “I doubt that you could give me many years.”

“I’m twenty-two.”

“My twentieth birthday’s but a month away.”

“And you are the eldest son?” Weir had reined in his horse waiting until Colin came up beside him.

“No. Tony’s the eldest. Rather he is named Richard, but is called by the second of his names to distinguish him from my father.”

“And your sister? I presume this must be her eighteenth year, else she’d not have been given a ball.”

“Juliet will be eighteen come November.” Colin explained the reasons for the ball. “Probably,” he added with a small pang, “she’ll be wedded and off by November. Half the county’s in love with her, and she’s in love with them. My sister Kathleen also married at eighteen as did my mother.”

“You seem very fond of this Juliet,” Weir commented. “She’s my favorite sister,” Colin admitted. “We’re the closest in age, you see, and she’s such a merry little thing, a real tease. I shall miss her when she’s away from the Hold. We all will, I expect.”

“Very likely.” Weir nodded. “I’ve not had a sister, but I did have a favorite brother, older than myself.”

“He’s dead?”

“Long ago,” Weir corroborated.

“A childhood disease?”

“Aye, one that was like to have felled the lot of us, but I recovered. He did not.”

“You have my sympathies.” Colin put out his hand to touch Weir’s shoulder, but at the same time the latter’s horse snorted and moved away.

“Aldeberan’s anxious for stable comforts,” Weir said. “We’d best be on our way.”

“Yes, we should,” Colin agreed, falling in behind him once more.

In another few minutes, they took a turn, and amazingly the shrubbery and trees thinned out and Colin looked once more upon the highway. “By all that’s holy, man!” he exclaimed. “You’ve brought us through the dark forest. However did you manage it?”

“I’ve told you—’tis my night vision.”

“I wish I possessed that gift.”

With a spurt of low laughter, Weir said, “Tis not quite the blessing you’d imagine. My eyes by day are not nearly so dependable. In fact it has been my habit to rest a good part of each day, rising when the sun is sinking and the light less painful to me. My friends have dubbed me a modern Arisitippus for my slothful habits, as they term them. I let them think that I, too, live for pleasure.”

“Why do you not tell them the truth?” Colin inquired sympathetically.

“I am not a seeker after pity. Let them spend that elsewhere, that’s what I say,” Weir said loftily. “I’ve told you only that you may understand and perhaps explain my infirmity to your family, though I fear they may find it very strange and not to their liking.”

“And I promise you, they will not,” Colin assured him. He stared down the road. To his surprise, he saw the massive outlines of the Hold. Once more he was amazed. “Good Lord, man, we’re close to home. I never dreamed we’d arrive so quickly! Come!” He rode up to join Sir Simeon once more.

The latter said tentatively, “You’re sure of my welcome?”

“Never more. You have my word on it. Come,” Colin repeated, urging Miranda toward the drawbridge.

An hour later, Colin, preparing for bed, was joined by Juliet. “You’re here!” she shrieked and flung herself into his arms.

“I am that.” He hugged her and, pushing her away, smiled down at her. “But I’d not wanted you to greet me at such an hour. You should have been long asleep.”

“How might I sleep and you not under our roof when you were expected long before?” Juliet inquired.

“I was delayed upon the road.”

“But not waylaid. With the way Molly was carrying on, I thought you might be, and poor Mama feared the same thing. And Papa talked of highwaymen, and I...”

“I do not hear Molly now,” he interrupted. “Has she been at it again?”

“When has she not, these past seven years?”

“And still refuses to tell you why?”

“She’s grown very grumpy. She’ll not speak to me at all any more. To my mind, she misses Ireland.”

“I wish she’d go back there.” Colin tilted his head. “I think I do hear her, but faintly.”

“She’s weary, I expect.” Juliet frowned. “I, too, wish she’d return. Poor Mama’s quite beside herself.”

“Lord, that would be difficult.” Colin commented with a grin he hastily smoothed away.

“What do you... oh!” Juliet shook her head and her finger as well. “I beg you’ll not be so cruel. ’Tis an unceasing pain to her that she’s gained so much flesh. ’Tis difficult for her to walk. She spends most of her days in her chamber.”

“She’s grown even greater?”

Juliet nodded and looked at him unhappily. “She says she’ll not even come down for my ball and Papa’s sleeping in another bedchamber.”

“So I learned when I spoke to William about accomodations for Sir Simeon Weir, who came with me.”

“Sir Simeon Weir? Who might he be? You’ve brought home a friend for me? From Oxford? Oh, you never said you’d do that.” Juliet’s blue eyes shone. “What’s he like? Tell me!”

“He’s not a friend, minx, and I didn’t bring him for you. I’m not saying he mightn’t be a friend, but at present he’s but an acquaintance, a most helpful one at that.” Colin explained his encounter with Weir.

Juliet listened attentively. “He does sound fascinating. I’ve never met anyone who could see at night as well as we can by day!”

“No more have I. I wasn’t inclined to believe him, at first, but it’s true. There wasn’t even a good moon, and he rode as if he knew every inch of the path!”

“Marvelous!” Juliet smiled brightly. “I am glad he insisted you leave that horrid inn. I had feelings about you tonight, and I expect that’s why.”

“Feelings?”

“I thought you might be in some sort of trouble.”

“Oh, yes, I expect father’s been talking quite a bit about all the highwaymen in the district.”

“More than that.” Juliet regarded him oddly.

“What more?”

“I don’t know.” She frowned. “But you’re here, and all my fears are assuaged. Oh, Colin, I have missed you so dreadfully!”

“And I have missed you.” He looked at her lovingly. “Now get to bed. I’d like to ride with you in the morning, and if we do not stop talking, we’ll both remain abed all day like Sir Simeon Weir.”

“Does he sleep all day?” she demanded.

“He says that the sunlight’s hard on his eyes.”

“Oh, poor man. I do love the sun.”

“And so do I. And if I am to see it, you must leave me now.”

“No,” Juliet said pouting. “I want to remain here with you.”

Colin shook his head. “You may not.”

“Why not?” she demanded crossly.

“You know very well why not,” he returned. “We’re not children any more.”

“Nor lovers, neither,” she responded audaciously. “I could not love you in that way.”

“Nor I you.” He grinned.

“Then let me stay.” She shivered. “I am still afraid.”

“Why?” Colin’s grin vanished. Generally she put small stress upon such feelings, especially now that she had grown older.

“I do not know.” Juliet’s expression was puzzled. “Please let me stay. I’ll lie very far from you, and I’ll leave early before the maids come to bring hot water.”

He was never proof against her pleading. “Very well, minx.” He kissed her on the forehead. She, in turn, flung her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. Afterwards she bounced into the huge fourposter, lying as near to the edge as possible until he joined her. Then she rolled over to tickle him.

“Enough.” He pushed her away and laughed.

They both laughed and, as they had when they were children, fell peacefully asleep—at a proper distance from each other.

❖

Fulke’s laughter was in Richard’s ears as he awakened out of a rare dream of his brother. He felt as he had in childhood when Fulke, for no reason at all, pointed at him and guffawed, as if he were some figure of fun. It was the same sort of sniggering merriment which had roused him. He turned toward Catlin, then remembered that she was no longer beside him. The reasons for that caused him to wince. In the last seven years, she seemed to have put on at least seven more stone. On the rare occasions when she dressed, it took two maids to put her into her gowns and three to bathe her. The doctor had suggested she eat less but, seemingly, she could not. She had a craving for sweets, and the cook, nothing loath, sent jellies, pastries and comfits to her.

“If I’d known...” Richard muttered. Against his will, he thought of Dashwood and Medmenham. He could see Catlin in his mind’s eye. Had she ever been so lovely and so slim? It seemed impossible, but it was not—and then, of course, his thoughts strayed to Erlina Bell. He didn’t need her curses. Through his own folly, he was cursed with a wife who looked like some carnival oddity!

If he could have brought himself to believe in a supreme being, he would pray that none of his children grow to resemble their mother and thought immediately of Juliet. It would be terrible if that slim, delightful little creature were to become so gross. She was such a lovely child—though child no longer. The day after tomorrow she would have her birthday ball. Seventeen and seven months she was and, of course, he must lose her soon. He had no doubt that Juliet, like Kathleen, would marry early; perhaps, again in common with Kathleen, she would meet her future husband on the night of the ball.

Strange to think of his hard-riding little girl ready to drop her first child. Would she prove as fecund as her mother? He did not dwell on that. His thoughts turned to Tony, in love with Lady Felicity Campbell—so pretty a girl, but delicate, or so she appeared. Looks could be deceiving, and no one knew that better than himself. And Colin was home! Parkins, his valet, had brought him that news, knowing him to be concerned. And who was Sir Simeon Weir? It did not matter; he would meet him on the morrow. He glanced toward the window. It was still dark, and Parkins had mentioned something about Sir Simeon guiding Colin home in what was practically the dark o’ the moon. Odd, but at least the boy’d sleep under his own roof tonight; all his four were together again. They were such handsome children. Once more Richard thought of his dream and heard his brother’s mocking laughter in his ears. It was a pity Fulke could not have known of his four fine
legitimate
children. He almost wished that there were ghosts. Surely if his brother floated through the halls, it would irk him mightily, especially when he remembered that he had been slaughtered for the wanton sowing of his own seed—and no legitimate heir to succeed him. Smiling, Richard went back to sleep.

❖

“Molly and the cat, too.” Catlin, lying awake, thought she had never heard them so loud. She reached out a trembling hand and encountered only a pillow. Once she would have wept, but having discovered long ago that tears were useless, she merely closed her eyes and thought of
The Lover’s Stratagem
and the young man in the audience, who had looked at her so ardently. How would her life have been had she not fallen in love with him that very minute? It had been wicked of him to have her kidnapped, to be sure, and her own wickedness lay in yielding to him. True, she had been drugged, but she had wanted him and wanted him still. Catlin reached for the tray that was on the nightstand. There was a small selection of cakes and bonbons upon it, which meant crumbs in the bed in the morning, but Richard was not there to complain. Tears threatened. She reached for a cake and stuffed the whole of it into her mouth. Swallowing it, she had another... and another...

❖

Kathleen, new to the delight of feeling the kicking of her child in its efforts to escape its nest, smiled and patted her belly, wishing she could hold her baby in her arms. She never would have guessed that the joys of motherhood could replace the excitement of galloping across the fields. It had been close on seven months since she had ridden. A giggle escaped her. Indoor sports had more than compensated for the lack, and once John returned from Madras and her babe was born, she’d put the child out with a wet nurse and save her bosom for he who was lover as well as husband. Her mother would have chided her for such wanton thoughts, she knew, but she’d never been minded toward confidences in that Jump that lay alone in the master bedroom. She had only pity for her poor father and wondered why he did not take a mistress! The banshee’s wailing reached her, but faintly. Kathleen wondered what it might be and was prayerfully pleased that Molly was not keening for Colin, who was home again.

❖

Tony, heavily asleep in his room, dreamed blissfully of Felicity.

❖

Juliet met Sir Simeon in the rose garden at twilight and decided immediately that he was uncommonly handsome but that she did not like him. She was surprised at her feelings, especially since she had the strongest reasons in the world to like him. He had brought her brother home safely from an inn about which Tony had made inquiries, learning that it had a malodorous reputation. Also, it had been at Sir Simeon’s insistence that they had left that inn. Consequently Juliet had every reason to like him and possibly even to love him. She had often envisioned the man she thought she could love, and though she was sure she had been deeply enamoured of at least four young men, none had had the coal black hair, the flashing dark eyes and the handsome features she preferred.

Sir Simeon had coal black hair, and if his rather somber eyes did not flash, they were a deep brown which was almost as satisfactory as black. His features were definitely handsome, and he was also charming. Thus, she found it very odd in herself that she had conceived so immediate a dislike for him. Searching for a reason, she fell back on one that was patently ridiculous.