Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (20 page)

“This is preposterous!” Dera paced the length of the bedroom, unable to stand in one spot for longer than a second. The candlelight flickered across her movements, causing her pale silk gown to appear brighter and matched the fire in her eyes.

Quint watched her but refused to back down though her fury was directed against him. “You know I had no other choice.”

“We could have returned home long ago,” Dera stated in agitation. “That was the choice, but you refused to take it. Now, we’re truly hostages of Peg McConnell’s vengeance. She hates us, and she’ll use her daughter, your daughter, too, I might remind you, to get her way. She cares nothing for the girl, only for herself, and tonight is a way to appease that vengeance by humiliating us.”

Quint stuffed his hands in his coat pocket. “I don’t see how a family dinner will do that. After all, Paul and Allison are both aware that Beth is my child. Paul has accepted her, and Allison doesn’t seem to resent the fact. I never knew of Beth’s existence all these years, and a little birthday celebration for her can’t complicate matters.”

For a brief moment, Dera closed her eyes in anguish. She’d never be able to forget Quint had a daughter, a child she hadn’t given him. She loved her sons dearly, but all of her life she had wished for a daughter, someone with whom she could share the lighter things of life. With Daniel, she had come close. He wasn’t as consumed with hatred as Paul, but just the same, she always had wished for a daughter who resembled her, someone molded in her own image. It might be selfish of her but she wanted to relive a part of her life through a female child. And she knew Quint too had wanted a daughter whom he could spoil. But, of all the people on earth, why did Peg McConnell have to be the one who bore a girl?

“Quint,” she said through tightened lips, “I’m aware Peg has made you feel guilty. However, you didn’t know she had a child. It’s very good of you to want to form an attachment to Beth, but are you certain she is truly yours and not some other man’s child?”

“She is mine. The girl resembles my mother and my eldest brother.”

Dera wished to cry, but she had cried so often the last few weeks that she didn’t think there were any tears left. Instead she opened the door, shutting it soundly behind her and left the room.

~ ~ ~

During the everlasting meal, Allison spoke warmly to Beth and tried to make her feel welcome as they sat around the long mahogany dining table. Beside Beth sat Patrick, who looked out of place in a high necked shirt and coat.

Quint asked Beth about her early life, and she answered truthfully that it had been hard to be abandoned by her mother. He found himself warming to his daughter, and though she wasn’t dressed as richly as Allison or Dera, in his eyes she was beautiful. He and Peg had produced a beautiful daughter. He was enraptured by her soft voice, the cinnamon eyes dancing in her round face, and wished he could have spoiled her when she was a little girl. He had come from a family of all sons and had married a woman who gave him handsome healthy sons, but a daughter was different. He wished Beth could have been his and Dera’s little girl.

Quint stood and raised his wine glass. “To my daughter,” he
said,
his pride evident in his eyes. Paul also toasted her as did everyone else, but Dera did so reluctantly.

Beth blushed and lowered her eyes. “Thank you,” she said, her voice trembling. “I know my mother somehow forced you into this celebration; I am grateful to all of you. This is the most wonderful birthday I’ve ever had!”

Her gratitude was so overwhelming that everyone was deeply moved. Paul went to her and kissed her cheek. “You’re my sister and a Flannery. You belong here in this house just as much as anyone.” He looked towards Patrick. “I’d be pleased if you both would move in with us and out of the cottage. What do you say, Father?”

“Aye,” replied Quint with pleasure shining in his eyes.

At that moment, Dera rose from her chair. “Excuse me for leaving the celebration, however, I have a headache and need to retire for the night.” Quickly she left the room and nearly bumped into Peg who stood in the vestibule, listening to all that occurred in the dining room. Dera glared at her. “I hope you’re happy with yourself. Your daughter is now part of my family.”

Peg smiled, her sharp little teeth flashing. “‘Tis as it should be. Beth is a Flannery and will live in this house.”

“Don’t pretend you’ve done all this for her! You’re the one who aims to live here. You don’t give a care about Beth! I know you, Peg McConnell, just as I knew your slimy brother. You McConnells were always conniving and deceitful. Tell me—what is it you really want?”

Peg moved closer, her mouth twisted in a grimace. “My Beth shall capture the heart of her father and give it back to me! Already Quint has softened towards me because of her. Not much longer, pretty Dera, and he will be mine—mine as he was meant to be all along.”

The woman’s assurance shook Dera, and she knew that poor, unsuspecting Beth had formed a wedge in her marriage. She didn’t really wish to deny Quint the love of his daughter, but ultimately the girl would be the reason if their marriage failed. If she had to return to Louisiana alone, she’d be certain that Peg was to blame for manipulating the situation. “You’re mad!” Dera said.

“Maybe, but your Quint made me so.” Without another word, she sauntered towards the kitchen. Dera went upstairs, aware that a plan had been set in motion but unable to stop it.

In the dining room, Beth had burst into tears at Paul’s offer. “Isn’t it grand?” she asked Patrick, drying her eyes. The family had left them alone to discuss the offer. Of course, Beth wished to accept, and she expected Patrick to be as thrilled as she was. However, her excitement faded under Patrick’s steady, stern gaze.

“‘Tis a kind gesture, but you’d best be telling your people that we can’t be accepting. I’m the overseer. I can’t live in a fine mansion and do a proper job.”

“Don’t worry over such silliness! My father won’t allow you to keep your position now. He’ll surely think of something grander for you.” She hugged herself. “And just think, Patrick, I’ll have me a lady’s maid!
Me, Beth McConnell.”
She giggled.

“Lacey.
Your name is Beth Lacey now, and don’t you be forgetting it! They’ve filled your head with all sorts of nonsense.” He threw down his napkin and stood up, drawing her to her feet and holding her close. “We’ve only begun to find each other, and I won’t lose you to fancy ways and silk gowns. You don’t belong here anymore than I do.”

She shook her head. “Nay, I’m a true Flannery. My ancestors lived in this house, and I want to live here, too.” She threw her arms around his neck. “Don’t be so hard-headed, Patrick.”

“You must choose between your family and me. There’s no way I’ll be taking their charity and be given luxuries. I belong on the estate, hardworking and earning my
living,
and I expect you to be with me.”

“This is my birthright.”

He let loose a profanity. “Your crazy mother has filled your head with high-flown ideas. Beth, you’re illegitimate. This house, the land, can never be yours. Allison expects a child very soon, and her child will inherit—not you…”

She seemed not to hear his words. “You’re much too practical and serious. Let’s pack our things this moment and move upstairs.” She nuzzled against him. “We can make love all night long in a huge, soft bed.”

“Do you love me, Beth?”

She glanced up at him. “What a strange question to be asking at such a time.”

“If you loved me, you wouldn’t think it was strange.” He sighed. “Are you coming home with me or staying here?”

Slowly she disentangled her arms from around his neck. “If
you
loved me, Patrick, you’d not ask me to choose but would move into the manor.”

“You know I love you, but I’ll not dance to your tune just because you wish to play the fiddle.”

“I won’t return with you. I can’t!”

Her answer caused him to smile wryly. “Aye, you’re a Flannery all right. You’ve inherited their stubbornness, but I can be stubborn, too. You’re not the only pretty piece of fluff around these parts.”

Beth gasped, understanding his meaning, and as he walked towards the terrace doors, she called after him. “I hope you and Annie Donahue will be happy together!” But she herself was far from happy. She sank into a chair and buried her head on her arms until her father came in to comfort her.

“Your father has grown quite fond of Beth.” Allison’s comment contained a touch of envy. Though she disliked Quint, she wanted to belong, to feel she too was truly a Flannery. She watched Quint as he stroked his daughter’s hair, and from her vantage point on the terrace, his concern for Beth was evident.

Paul sighed and straddled the stone bench. He reached for Allison’s hand and pulled her down in front of him, her head barely reaching his shoulder. Gently he twirled a golden lock of her hair around his finger. All was dark around them except for the moonlight faintly illuminating their features.

“Thank you for not acting shocked when my father told us about Beth the other night.”

“I wasn’t shocked. Nothing the Flannery men do shocks me.”

He dropped the gleaming curl. “Allison, I didn’t coerce you that last time we made love
.
You were quite willing.”

She felt her cheeks burning like a banked hearth. She had wanted him, even when he had stormed the bedroom after their love-making in the carriage. However, she still wondered if he truly loved her, desperately wanting to believe it so. Since that night they had barely spoken. There were no harsh words between them afterwards, nothing which could account for the strained silence, but he slept in his room and
she
in hers.

“If I remember, Paul, you made a promise to me—one you never intended to keep.”

“Damn the promise! You don’t actually expect me to let you prance out of my life, do you? I can’t believe you’d leave our baby.”

“Just like you, I made a promise I didn’t intend to keep.”

“What a devious minx you are.”

“If I learned anything from your family, Paul, it is the art of deception.”

His arms went around her thick waist, and he pulled her against him. “Let me prove you can trust me, that I’ll never hurt you.”

“I should like that,” she whispered.

He bent his head to kiss her, but she winced. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

A wave of nausea flooded her, and she drew away from him. Her hands flew in alarm to her swollen abdomen. “It’s too early for the baby.”

A sharp pain shot through her, and she grabbed the front of Paul’s shirt. “Take me upstairs and send for Doctor Curry.”

False labor pains was Doctor Curry’s diagnosis, and bed rest was the prescribed treatment until the actual labor began. But Allison had been barely confined a week before she thought she’d go mad with boredom. To fill the lonely hours she embroidered and had long talks with Dera. Slowly a rapport developed between them, and she reached a better understanding of Paul through his mother’s eyes. However, Allison sensed an unresolved conflict between Dera and Quint because of Beth but didn’t broach the subject with Dera.

Paul was overly solicitous, and Allison grudgingly enjoyed his concern, hoping it wasn’t forced only because she carried his child. Yet she was growing to trust him more, and this filled her with a contentment which sustained her through the long hours. The nights could have been unbearable, but she had asked Paul to sleep beside her just in case labor started. In effect she wordlessly was asking him to share her bed even after the birth, but she thought he sensed this by his ready acceptance and tender smile.

One afternoon Beth joined her, and despite the fact that she no longer was Allison’s maid, she straightened the room and put things in order. “Tsk, tsk,” Beth clucked in dismay. “That lazy Rose should do better for you. I’ll be speaking to her about the way she hangs your pretty dresses. I was never so careless. “

“No, you were very efficient,” Allison agreed and managed to hide a tiny smile. “Don’t bother with my things, but sit down and talk to me.” Allison patted the place beside her on the bed, and Beth sat, a frown settling on her face. “What’s the trouble?” Allison asked but already surmised that the trouble was Patrick.

“My husband is shaming me with Annie Donahue.”

“Are you bothered by that?”

“Of course.”

“Do you love him? I remember you loved Howard Granger just before you married Patrick.”

Beth’s face seemed to fall at the mention of Howard’s name. He had sent her another note, asking to see
her,
unaware she had seen him with the parlor maid. He wrote that if she didn’t come to him, he would assume she didn’t love him. Well, she hadn’t gone to him and vowed she never would, realizing that Howard hadn’t ever loved her. But Patrick had—and she had driven him away. “I don’t wish to speak about Sir Howard.”

“As you wish.
But what about Patrick?”

Beth’s voice broke on a sob. “I … I think I love him.”

Allison placed an arm around her shoulder. “Tell him so.

“‘Tis too late.
He’ll never live here in the manor with me. Anyway, he’s got Annie Donahue.”

“Take him away from her. You can do it, Beth. You’re the woman he loves. If you do love him, forget about living here and live with him at the cottage.”

Beth wiped away a stray tear. “You make it sound so simple.”

“It is.”

“I don’t think he’ll
be wanting
me any longer.”

“There’s a threshing party by the cottages this afternoon. Find Patrick and convince him of your love. I have a feeling he’s just as miserable as you.”

Beth’s face brightened to think
he
, too, might be feeling misery. She jumped off the bed,
then
hugged Allison. “Aye, I shall and thank you, thank you.”

After Beth left, Allison felt wonderful. She had played matchmaker and had given Beth some good advice. Moments later, when laughter drifted up from the garden through the half-cracked window, Allison got out of bed and peered down. Her heart beat quickened at the sight below her. Paul held Constance in his arms—their bodies so close she couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. She quickly drew away from the passionate display just as Paul’s deep laugh echoed upward. Instead of going back to bed, she sat at her desk, a sick feeling invading her stomach. She took deep breaths, refusing to become ill over the incident. But it led her to realize that Paul still wanted Constance and must love her to make such a public display of his affection right below their bedroom window.

Despite inward trembling, she penned a message on her personal stationary,
then
dispatched a servant to immediately deliver it.

So Paul had played her for a fool, had he? She could be just as deceptive, too—a trait she had learned from the master of deception.
Though her eyes wore a pained expression, her lips tilted into a smile to imagine Paul’s genuine horror when Daniel arrived to claim her.

~ ~ ~

“Such a flighty piece of baggage,” Paul said aloud, not bothering to hide his amusement as Constance rode away. Out riding, my eye, he thought. He suspected she had ridden over just to entice him into her bed. Still, he had to admit Constance was desirable, a fetching vision in her blue riding attire which accentuated every curve of her voluptuous body. It was hard to resist such a gorgeous woman, but he had. With firmness, he had pushed her away, declaring there was no future for them.

He loved Allison and wanted to be a good father to their child, not go gallivanting off to Canada with her to take up residence with her uncle as she had suggested during a moment of pique. Her choice of Canada had stunned him. Sad memories of years best forgotten.

Bounding up the stairs to his room, he expected a warm greeting, but Allison’s cold sapphire stare chilled him. In no uncertain terms she told him never to come near her again, and when he asked what troubled her, she threw a vase at him, barely missing his head.

“I’m tired of it all!” she shouted. Understanding her to mean the pregnancy and the past, he withdrew from the room, hoping she would soon calm down, When he saw her later and she was still smoldering, he realized that the wall between them had been rebuilt. Perhaps Canada might not be such a bad idea after all.