Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (21 page)

“And our manners,” said the man with a warm smile. “Sir Ernest and Lady Fosse, of Pilch House, a few miles to the east. We were keen to welcome you to the area, but perhaps too keen.”

She immediately liked them and hoped she wasn’t deceived.

“Not at all. I’m delighted to make your acquaintance. Won’t you come in? I could enjoy a cup of tea.”

Thank heavens she’d been so busy talking that she’d eaten and drunk little.

As they turned toward the doors, Perriam came over, easy in his manner despite his undress. He carried his waistcoat and coat slung over one shoulder.

“Fosse. Lady Fosse. How kind of you to call. You find us in complete disarray, but in a good cause.”

“We were just saying as much,” said Lady Fosse, smiling at him. “Mistress Perriam has kindly offered us tea.”

“I’ll join you,” he said, offering an arm.

Despite the arm being half-exposed and somewhat grimy, Lady Fosse took it and went into the house with him, saying, “I do hope this means you intend to reside here.”

Claris took Sir Ernest’s arm, hearing her husband say, “My wife does . . .”

She felt compelled to explain. “I prefer country living.”

“I’m the same myself, ma’am. Reason I gave up my seat in Parliament years ago. Pity Perriam’s so much obliged in Town.” At least he didn’t seem to find this odd. “With or without him, you must come and dine with us when you will. You might also enjoy the company of our daughter, Jane. Mistress Jordan now, but living not far away. She’s about your age, and also a young wife.”

“That would be lovely,” Claris said, and a part of her meant it. Another part, the old part, shrank from all this sunny conviviality and wanted to fade back into the shadows.

Claris settled the Fosses in the drawing room and ordered the tea, and then hurried to her room to tidy herself. Her husband came with her, bellowing down to the hall, “Auguste!” He glanced at her. “Maid’s name?”

“Alice.”

“And Alice!” he shouted.

Claris made it to her room only a minute before her maid. She would have to gather the nerve to shout like that. Or acquire loud bells. Yes, that was it. A large bell in each room. There could even be a different tone or pattern for each member of the family.

“Tidy me. Quickly. Change? No, it would look odd. Do I have dirt or grass on me?”

Alice brushed her down. “Perhaps clean stockings, ma’am?”

Claris saw hers were muddy. “And my new shoes.”

While Alice found them, Claris brushed out her hair and pinned it up. “The new cap! Oh, you’ve trimmed it already. Thank you.”

Claris didn’t know if the ribbons hanging down the back would make her flighty or not, but she’d use any improvement she could.

When she returned to the drawing room, the requirements for tea had arrived and Athena was preparing it. Claris was shocked by a spurt of annoyance. Her grandmother was usurping her place. She hid that behind a smile and sat down, looking forward to learning more about the area and the local families.

Athena had charge of that too, however, and the talk was about Town delights. When Perriam came in, restored to neatness, he joined in. Excluded, Claris did the only thing possible and paid attention so as to learn. She was going to have to go to fashionable London with the boys one day.

Yet again, however, a situation was being twisted away from her expectations. Something would have to be done.

When the Fosses left, Athena said, “We dine at two?”

Claris hadn’t given a thought to normal daily patterns.

“With everything at sixes and sevens, I think it best if we each eat in our rooms when we will.”

“The workers don’t need constant supervision. Or assistance.”

Perriam had left, probably to rejoin the merry throng outside. Claris envied him.

“It’s good to be at ease with the local people,” she said.

“Pandering will make them idle. Dinner at two. It is necessary to maintain good order, especially in disordered times. I shall tell the cook.”

She left before Claris could find an argument. She’d thought her husband the biggest threat to her status here, but perhaps she’d been wrong.

Had Athena ruled the roost in the cottage?

Perhaps she had. When she’d arrived, she’d been the one with worldly knowledge, while Claris had been deeply ignorant.

Her grandmother liked to be in command, but so, Claris realized, did she.

Perhaps if Athena decided she could now abandon her grandchildren it would be no bad thing. Claris would miss Ellie, but no one was going to usurp her hard-won authority over Perriam Manor.

H
owever, when they gathered for dinner, Claris accepted that Athena might have been right. This was her family’s first proper meal at Perriam Manor, and it would set a pattern.

Perriam was at the head of the table. She was seated opposite him. The twins, scrubbed and neat, sat on her left side. Athena and Ellie sat on her right. The first course of dishes was laid on the table and they all began to help themselves and one another.

The twins were bright-eyed at the selection and needed to be nudged to serve others as they should. They’d never eaten like this before.

“Cook has done wonders to prepare this as well as the food for the workers,” Claris said.

“She might be enjoying the challenge,” Perriam said.

“I think you’re right. I gather your cousin rarely came here.”

“Not until his last months.”

“According to one of the village women, the manor was lively in his grandfather’s time.” She related what she’d heard. “I hope to restore that way of life.”

“Easy enough,” Perriam said. “Merely living here will do it.”

“My sympathies are with your cousin Giles,” Athena said, “and his love of the beau monde. Such a pleasure today to speak of important matters with people of fashion.”

“Sir Ernest and Lady Fosse rarely travel,” Perriam said drily. “Their knowledge comes from
The
Gentleman’s Magazine
.”

Athena’s brows rose. “It must be a most informative publication.”

“It is. Shall I subscribe to it for you?”

Claris sensed a clash but couldn’t understand it.

“Claris might benefit from it,” Athena said and then turned to Claris. “You were somewhat tongue-tied, child.”

Oh, that word “child”!

“I was bored. I would have much preferred to learn more about local affairs.”

“Of course you would,” Ellie said, peacemaking. “It’s wise to understand the ways of where you live. We’ve always made a point of it, haven’t we, Thenie?”

Claris had never heard Ellie use that name before, or challenge Athena. To her surprise, it seemed to work.

Athena returned her attention to her plate. “Why anyone would want to live the year round in the country if they didn’t have to, I cannot imagine. But if one does . . .”

“Even a person who lives only part of the year in the countryside should understand its ways.” Perriam winked at the twins. “Note the lesson, lads.”

“We like the countryside,” Tom said.

“It’s all you’ve known,” Athena said.

“I hope you always like it,” Claris said. “But Mr. Perriam thinks you should visit London at some point and learn its ways.”

She was surprised when their eyes lit, until Peter said, “There are wild beasts in the Tower!”

“There are wild beasts everywhere in London,” Perriam said. When the twins stared, he added, “I’m speaking of the human kind. That’s why you should learn its ways—to know beasts from men. But it has many delights.”

He went on to relate some, choosing just the things to appeal to eleven-year-old boys—displays of weaponry, dungeons at the Tower, and military parades at Horse Guards. There was even a swimming area called the Peerless Pool, but it would be too late in the year for that.

Claris rang for the next course, considering what she was learning, not about London’s pleasures, but about herself and her family.

Athena did not want to live here all the year round. Perhaps she didn’t want to live here at all. In some ways that might be good.

But if Athena and Ellie left, when the twins went to school she would be alone in this big house. . . .

“Do you not agree, Claris?”

She started and looked down the table. “I’m sorry, I was woolgathering.”

“Were we boring you again?” Athena asked in a tone that made Claris grit her teeth.

“I was considering when it would be best for us to visit London,” Claris lied. “My brothers must first become settled into their studies. Can you acquire a tutor for them as soon as may be, Perriam?”

“Of course. A stern one, I think, with a heavy rod and dour manner.” But again, he winked at the twins and they grinned.

They liked him.

They’d said as much.

Perhaps in a way, more than they liked her.

It was only natural, for she was more like a mother than a sister, and they were of an age to want male company. Also, he charmed as easily as he breathed. Even so, their defection hurt.

She was relieved when the meal was over and used the workers as an excuse to avoid the after-dinner tea. She went to her room to change her shoes, remembering that she must acquire a broad-brimmed hat to try to discourage freckles.

She laughed at that impossible ambition and sat at her desk to add to the list of things she could achieve.

Bells.

Hat.

How? Where? When?

She scribbled through that line but rested her head on her hand. She felt overwhelmed, but that wasn’t surprising. It was her nagging dissatisfaction that disturbed her. She had what she wanted, didn’t she? She’d won a comfortable home and had independent charge of it. She could spend her life making it exactly as she wanted.

A little voice said,
Is that all?

She went to the window, a window free of ivy so that light poured in and she could look over her domain. When she looked down, however, she realized it overlooked the yew-guarded memorials. Of course the first wife would have constructed it where she could easily see it, but the smothered babes made her shudder.

She turned away. Was her destiny to live alone amid ghastly memorials and ghostly nurseries, haunted by an empty cradle that must wait for another generation to be filled?

What generation?

If Perriam died, she’d inherit the manor from him, but after her?

She could leave it to one of the twins, but that created a new thorny thicket. Which one? Peter because he was the older, or Tom because he was less likely to make a brilliant career?

An impossible choice.

That was far in the future! For now, she would be grateful for all she had, for how much improved life was for herself and her family.

She went outside to find that two sides of the house were clear. The brickwork was still marked where the ivy had clung, but the mellow beauty made her resolution easy. Perriam Manor would be her perfect home.

Perriam came over to her. “Much improved.”

“It’s lovely.”

He looked at her. “Do you truly think so?”

“Do you truly prefer the straight and modern?”

“I confess, yes.”

They were different in so many ways, perhaps in all ways. She must remember that.

“Not climbing ladders?” she asked.

“I’ve forgone pleasure for duty and am at your disposal.”

“If you speak so rudely, sir, I might dispose of you in the river!”

“My sincerest apologies! Clearly rude labor has infected me. Of your kindness, sweet lady, accompany me on a tour of the estate?”

That charm again.

“Why?”

“You must want me to introduce you to the Moores at the home farm . . .”

Oh, must I?

“. . . and you will want to survey your domain.”

She twitched at another command beneath his fancy phrasing but had no argument to make.

“Very well, but as we go, tell me about the village. How many live there?”

“About one hundred.”

As they turned to walk away from the house, he touched her lightly on the back, as if she needed urging forward. It worked, because she felt that touch through cloth and stays.

“Smaller than Old Barford, then, but with a church. I saw it as we drove through.”

“Dedicated to Saint Beatrice, though as you’ll guess that only dates from the sixteenth century.”

“Your family is obsessed!”

“Not mine. We never renamed a church after Cecilia. I’m not sure there is a Saint Beatrice, whereas there is a Saint Cecilia.”

“There you go again, scoring points.”

“Trained to it from the cradle,” he agreed cheerfully, “but by our marriage we’ve put an end to all that. Rename the church if you want.”

They’d reached the end of the house and turned along the path to the kitchen garden, walking between low hedges splashed with golden celandine, blue toadflax, and scarlet poppies.

“Wouldn’t I need consent from the bishop?” she asked.

“Probably, but it shouldn’t be difficult to obtain.”

There spoke the man with generations of rank and power behind him.

“If I do change the dedication, it won’t be to Saint Cecilia.”

“Father will be disappointed.”

“He’ll have to endure it.”

“All very well as long as you don’t have to face him.”

“Is he really so terrifying?”

“Imagine a vengeful god. The sort that wields thunderbolts and breathes fire.”

“Then keep him away from here. You promised.”

“Did I?” he asked, looking alarmed.

“Do you truly fear him?” She found it hard to believe that Perriam feared anything or anyone.

“On my honor. Mostly because he’s irrational. My mother is as formidable, but icy reason flows in her veins.”

It was an oddly disturbing description. Claris had grown up amid passions and had thought she’d like calm, but icy was a different matter.

“I shall rename the church Saint Placid’s,” she said.

“Is there such a saint?”

“Yes.” She looked around. “Where are we going? The home farm is off to our left.”

“At a distance. If we’re to see the whole estate we’ll need to ride.”

Claris stopped. “I don’t ride, and I’ve no desire to.”

“You’ll be safe riding on a pillion behind me.”

“I’d rather we walk.”

“Have sense, Claris. I’ll keep you safe. We’ll only be ambling around.”

“Ambling means at walking pace,” she pointed out. “So what advantage?”

“Endurance. On horseback we can explore longer.”

“I’m able to walk for many miles, having never had the luxury of horses.”

“Then pity the pampered one. In any case, on horseback we’ll cross rough ground more easily. Trust me, it’s the better way.”

He was charming her again, seeking his own way, but his points seemed reasonable.

“Oh, very well. But if I break my neck I’ll hold you responsible.”

“And you’ll send down a curse?” But then he raised a hand. “I’m sorry. Not a subject for humor.”

“No.” She halted to look back at the tall yew hedge, still visible at a distance. “What am I to do with those memorials?”

“I don’t know.”

She saw he was serious. “I can’t destroy them.”

“No.”

“It would feel wrong to hide them away in the attics.”

“Yes.”

“I could have them placed in the church, but they’d take up a lot of space, and they’re . . .”

“. . . unsettling. In the extreme,” he completed.

“Yes.”

“I trust your judgment.”

“Why?” she asked, genuinely bewildered.

“Because you’re you. You’ve survived a difficult life and kept your sanity and good humor.”

“You described me as a thistle!”

He smiled. “A good-humored one. Despite your parents, you raised your brothers to be happy, healthy lads. You can solve the problem of the ghastly memorials.”

Claris wished she had his faith. She was tempted to admit her other problems to him, but he mustn’t know that the curse bothered her, no matter how she reasoned against it, and she felt guilty about her resentment of Athena.

They entered the stables and found the twins putting saddles on their ponies under the watchful eye of a groom.

“We’re just going to ride around the paddock again,” Peter told Perriam.

“See you do. I’m taking your sister for a ride.”

“But she’s never ridden,” Peter protested, protective again, dear boy.

“Which is why she’ll be riding on a pillion behind me. I’ll keep her safe—my word on it.”

That instantly satisfied the boys, who went back to their work, but Claris was aware again of the manly circle being formed, one that excluded her. He gave the order to another groom and went over to chat with the twins.

The groom soon brought out a brown horse that seemed huge in comparison to the ponies. It was fitted with a pillion saddle, which consisted of the main saddle and a flat pad behind that had a raised back, a side bar, and a footrest beneath.

A chair, in effect.

She’d seen women riding this way, and they’d seemed relaxed, but the horse was big and the chair high.

Perriam mounted and rode the horse to the mounting block. A groom assisted her into her seat. She gripped the side bar. When he set the horse into motion, she gripped harder. Perhaps she made a sound, for he said, “Put your right arm around me if you wish.”