Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (16 page)

For some reason that forced a laugh from her, even though she knew she was being manipulated. She unlocked the door and left the key it in.

“There. We will preserve the facade. Is there anything more to discuss?”

“A great many practicalities, such as stables and estate administration, but that can wait until tomorrow. I assure you, I’m as eager to leave as you are to see me gone, but we must be practical in all ways. It’s possible, even likely, that neighbors might call tomorrow to pay their respects. I should greet them by your side, and won’t you be more comfortable that way?”

“Tomorrow?” she echoed, appalled.

“Sped on by the unusual stories surrounding us.”

Claris sat down again. “I could claim to be ill.”

“Spare my reputation! They’ll think the worst of your wedding night.”

Cheeks flaming, Claris glared at him again. “I’m not sure I believe any of this. What are your plans?”

“Completely as stated. On the subject of visitors, ask your grandmother.”

She rose. “I’d forgotten her. Is their room adequate?”

“I’m sure she’ll complain if it’s not. There are only three good bedchambers, so your brothers have a lesser one. Do you wish to see it?”

“Yes,” she said, and he took her there.

It was half the size of her own bedchamber, but many times the size of the one the boys had shared in the cottage. They’d probably use the tester bed as a castle, a ship, and even a coach drawn by imaginary horses.

“I assume it will do for the night at least,” he said. “You will know best if they’d want separate rooms.”

“No.”

“Or separate beds.”

“No. But there must be a children’s area here? Nurseries, schoolroom, small bedchambers?”

“There is, but it’s long unused except for infants.”

“I should at least look.”

“I advise against,” he said.

Ah, the dead babies.

“After all,” he said, “nurseries are unlikely to see use in our time.”

Why she should feel a touch of sorrow over that, she didn’t know.

“I should show you something else,” he said. “Something outside.”

His tone disturbed her, but whatever it was had best be faced.

T
he
y left the house by a side door near the kitchens. As best she could tell, the kitchens, storerooms, and such were clean and in good repair. The door took them into an area of herbs that would interest Athena.

“The walls over there enclose the kitchen garden. It seems in reasonable condition but could be improved. Giles only visited here occasionally, which is why there’s some neglect. This way.”

A graveled path led along the side of the house, and ahead stood a dense green hedge.

“Yew?” she guessed, but was puzzled. It was six feet high, but not very long. “A maze?”

“I wish it were.”

When they passed the hedge, she found it was one of three walls around a grassed area containing five stone plinths. On each plinth lay a white marble shape—the shape of a small, sleeping child entirely covered by a sheet.

No, not sleeping.

“Five?” she said, but then wondered why she’d asked that particular question.

“There was a daughter, never mentioned.”

She went toward the nearest one and saw the name engraved on the stone. “Giles Perriam,” with dates. He’d been two months old.

On the next, “Giles Perriam.”

And on the next.

“Was he mad?”

“This isn’t his work, though the naming probably was. The last boy is Charles because when he was born his older brother still lived, though not for long. The girl was Beatrice. They are all the children of Giles’s first wife, Louisa Forbes, and this is her work.”

“Poor, poor lady. Are they actually buried here?”

“No, they lie in the churchyard. I’m told Louisa created this after the last child died, Giles number three. She followed him the next year.”

“Heartbroken. But I thought there were two more wives.”

“As soon as it was decent Giles married again. That wife, Amelia Shaw-Cobham, had the good fortune to be barren but the bad fortune to succumb to the smallpox after six years. His third wife conceived but never brought a babe to life. After a series of miscarriages and two stillbirths, she went mad. She took her own life, here among these memorials, just over a year ago.”

“More things you didn’t tell me.”

He spread his hands. “I had my own necessities, and none of this affects you.”

“No? Isn’t the curse supposed to be passed on with the manor?”

“If you believe in the curse, then believe that our marriage has appeased your aunt. That’s what your mother promised.”

Claris opened her mouth but closed it, unable to think what to say. Her mother had been obsessed, and she’d have said anything, but Aunt Clarrie and the curse? That had never seemed possible.

“As there will be no children of our marriage,” he said, “these memorials need not disturb you.”

She laughed, entirely without humor. “They’re macabre! And remember, one wife died of smallpox.”

“You could be inoculated.”

“That’s far too dangerous, and beside the point.”

“We can debate the danger some other time. I have no belief in that curse, Claris, or I would never have married you or any woman, Perriam obsessions be damned.”

Struck by his sincerity, she turned back to the sad display and approached the one for Beatrice, who’d survived for three years. Old enough to walk and talk. Had that made her loss even worse?

“Is Perriam Manor haunted?” she asked.

“If any place deserves to be, this does, but I’ve heard nothing of it.”

She touched the marble sheet, irrationally surprised to find it cold. “I want to tear this back to let the poor child breathe.” She curled her fingers at one edge as if it might be possible.

He pulled her back. “It’s only stone. Solid stone.”

She turned to him, into his chest, fighting tears. Those poor, poor infants, and their poor mother, whose heart had been shattered five times. She only slowly realized where she was, what she was doing, and pushed away. “I’m sorry.”

He let her go. “No need to apologize.”

His arms had been around her, and they had warmed and comforted her in a way she’d never experienced before.

He touched her shoulder. “We know the boundaries of this marriage, Claris, but they don’t have to deny us comfort, or even friendship.”

She took another step back. “With you in London and me here? That wouldn’t be practical at all.” She briskly led the way out of the shadow of yews. “Thank you for showing me that. It would have been worse to come across it alone. Something must be done. The boys . . .”

“Will delight in the horrid.”

“Oh dear, you’re probably right. There was a tomb in the church in Old Barford that showed a skeleton with worms weaving through it. That was their favorite.”

“I’m sorry to have missed it. We males are warped in that way. We can continue around the house to the front door. There are no more grim surprises.”

She followed his lead, seeking something prosaic to speak of. “How big is the estate?”

“A little over six hundred acres, including the home farm. I should introduce you there tomorrow. A great deal is productive woodland. No one seems to have attempted much with the area close to the house.”

“At least it’s tidy.”

“Because I told them to tidy it. I look forward to seeing what you do with it.”

She paused to look at him. “You expect to return frequently?”

“No, but there is one other thing I didn’t tell you. By the terms of the very exacting will, I must reside here for thirty days in every calendar year or lose the estate.”

“Thirty days! You said you’d stay only a day or two.”

“And spoke the truth. The days need not necessarily be consecutive. A few days a month will do.”

She managed not to echo the words “a few days a month.”

“We’re late in September. Does that mean you have to be here for thirty days between now and January?”

“’Struth, I’d not thought of that. That’s about ten days a month.”

He spoke as if it were a prison sentence. She felt so torn about everything. She was determined to have this place to herself, but it hurt that he’d happily never return.

“Can the clause not be contested?” she asked.

“It might be possible to reduce it in proportion, but the way lawyers and courts work, it wouldn’t be settled before the year was over and their bills could eat a year’s income from the manor. We’ll have to cope as best we can.”

“If what you say is true.”

“I will always speak the truth to you.”

“But not the whole truth.” Her unruly temper was simmering.

“But not the whole truth.”

“Only what suits you.”

“Of course, and you will do the same, I’m sure.”

“I have nothing to hide!”

“Don’t you?” he asked.

Affirming words stuck in her throat. “Nothing that affects you or us.” When he smiled, she said, “Oh, I wish I had a pistol with me!”

“Temper, temper.”

She truly, deeply wanted to hurl something at him, but the memory of firing that pistol was leash enough.

“It won’t be so bad,” he soothed. “We can avoid each other most of the time. I’ll hide in my bedchamber and work on a book I’ve thought to write.”

“On how to irritate people?”

He laughed. “On court etiquette for the provincial gentleman.”

“Are you joking?”

“Not at all. So many come to Town for a momentous visit, then bumble around in anxious confusion.”

“Such a book might be a kindness.”

“You don’t think me capable of kindness?”

“Only when it suits you. Enough of this. Now I do want tea, and food as well. I’d have thought the twins were starving. Will it be seen as scandalous if they eat in the dining room?”

“They’re of an age for it outside of any formal entertainment.”

“Which I won’t be holding.”

“Best not to be rigid. You may make friends in the area. If you wish, have your brothers eat with you at all times. You can set up as an eccentric.”

“I may well do that. It comes in the blood on both sides of my family, and the Perriams aren’t clear of peculiarities.” With that, she led the way across the threshold, going from sunshine into gloom.

When her eyes adjusted, she saw the footman and asked him if he knew where her brothers were.

“I believe they’re in the kitchen, ma’am.”

Perriam said, “If you will permit, I have matters to attend to in my room.”

Claris permitted, wondering if he were giving her a free hand with the kitchen or he was involved in something more devious.

She found the twins seated at a long table eating bread and cheese and chattering to an attentive group of servants. She’d never given a thought to what they might say. As well write her business on the walls!

At sight of her, the servants hurried back to their work with many a wary glance.

“You’re not to bother the servants here,” she told the twins.

“We were hungry and couldn’t find you! Mistress Wilcock doesn’t mind.”

They smiled at a plump, aproned woman who must be the cook, and she beamed at them. “Lovely to have healthy appetites to feed, ma’am.”

“You’re very kind, but I must apologize for the disorder. It will take a day or two for my family to settle here.” She thought of something. “Have you seen our cat?”

“The black one, ma’am? He had a bit of an argument with our mouser, Mog, but no blood spilled.”

“Oh dear.”

“They seemed to come to an understanding, ma’am.”

Claris couldn’t think of anything useful to do about the cat world. “Mr. Perriam and I would like a light meal in the dining room as soon as may be.” To the twins, she said, “You may share it if you still have room.”

Bright eyes implied vast chasms yet to be filled.

“Something simple will do,” Claris added, hinting, “We too are hungry after a long day.”

The cook curtsied. “I had that in mind, ma’am, and can have a cold repast on the table in a trice.”

Claris thanked her for her thoughtfulness and took her brothers away. No point berating them for chatter. Truth will out.

“So what do you think of our new home?” she asked as they returned to the front hall.

“It’s splendid!” Peter said.

“But there aren’t any weapons,” Tom complained.

“A very good thing too.” There was another problem. There might be weapons somewhere in the house. As Perriam was still here, she’d set him the task of finding and securing them. The twins were generally very well behaved, but it would be folly to take chances.

“Did you find the stables?” she asked.

The boys stopped and stared at her, eyes wide. “The ponies are already here!”

“Castor and Pollux,” Peter said.

“But we’re not sure whose is whose,” Tom said. “We didn’t try to ride them.”

“Because we’d promised.”

“That was very noble of you,” Claris said, loving them for it. “I look forward to meeting the ponies, and I promise that tomorrow Mr. Perriam will arrange matters for you. Whose is whose, and any lessons you need.”

She realized she was granting him some authority, but as with the weapons, he was the best person for the task. What was more, he’d kept his promise about the ponies, and more generously than she’d expected. It couldn’t have been easy to buy them in such a short, busy period, and he’d named them after a famous pair of twins.

She would not sink to surliness, so she admitted to herself that he’d been correct about the benefit of him staying for a day or two. Only for a day or two, however. If he showed any inclination to linger . . .

He wouldn’t of course. He itched to return to his beloved Town.

She took her brothers up to see their room. It satisfied them, but it couldn’t begin to compete with ponies in their starry minds.

“Castor has a white blaze,” Peter said.

“And Pollux has white socks,” Tom said. “We’ll need riding crops.”

“If we can afford them,” Peter said.

It was so delightful to be able to say, “Of course we can, darlings. And perhaps leather breeches.”

In unison they said, “Really?”

“And books for your studies,” she reminded them. “You’ll have a new tutor soon.” Something else to discuss with Perriam. “Don’t forget you’ll be going away to school soon.”

They’d always looked forward to school, but now they frowned.

“Will we be able to take the ponies?” Tom asked.

“That seems unlikely, but you’ll be able to return here for holidays, because your school isn’t far away.” When they both scowled, she used the old saying. “Count your blessings. And don’t go in search of troubles, for they’ll come quickly enough to find you. Now, I see your boxes are here, so you’d best unpack them before the meal.”

Another question arose.

Perriam had said they were now the young masters of the house. Should they have a servant to take care of their clothing, bring up their water, and such? Probably they should, but what they’d make of it she couldn’t imagine.