The Bride Insists (11 page)

***

After breakfast the following morning, Clare went up to the twins' bedchamber and knocked on the door. She was dressed for the outdoors. After a silent pause, it was opened a crack, exposing one dark eye. “Shouldn't you let Randolph out for a run?” Clare asked. “I'm sure he'd like that.”

“Randolph?” answered one of the twins. Clare couldn't tell which with so little of the girl visible. “He's out in the st—” A sharp series of barks from within cut her off.

“I wondered if I might come along?” Clare added, showing no sign of disapproval. “I should like to learn some good walks nearby. I'm sure you know them all.”

The door closed on a whispered consultation, then opened wider to reveal both girls in their boyish attire, barring entry with their bodies. Clare heard the click of canine claws on the floorboards and braced herself. But Randolph merely thrust his massive head between the twins and gazed up at her, pink tongue lolling. “Hello, Randolph,” she said. The diamond-shaped brown patches around his eyes gave him a mournful air, but Clare would have sworn the dog's brown gaze held a twinkle. He wiggled and jostled and pushed free of his guardians, bounding into the smaller corridor that ran down the north wing. Clearly he was accustomed to using the back steps there rather than the main staircase.

Clare took the opportunity to look over the twins' heads into their room. It was as individual as she'd expected. They had another of the huge four-posters against the inner wall, with a large wardrobe on the other side. Two armchairs were drawn up to the hearth, a table between them pleasantly cluttered with books, shiny stones, bird nests, and other bits collected from the surrounding country. Windows in the two outer walls showed the sea. The far corner held a pile of blankets for Randolph. The girls had also amassed objects from around the house to brighten their haven—a jewel-toned carpet, colorful silk cushions, a pair of silver candlesticks. Somewhat to Clare's surprise, it all appeared to be clean. Perhaps she wouldn't have to persuade them to admit the scouring team, which was a relief. She gathered all this in a quick glance, then said, “Shall we go?”

The twins looked at each other, then grabbed their jackets and came, closing the door definitively behind them.

Randolph was already down the stairs and gone. Anna Pendennis cast Clare a surprised look as they followed him out through the scullery door and into the sunny air. The great dog capered and barked when he saw them, overjoyed to be out. “Where is your favorite walk?” Clare asked, speaking to the dog rather than the girls. Randolph turned and trotted off toward the cliffs. The twins gaped at Clare as she went after him.

For a while, she said nothing. The big dog moved fast, and she used her breath to keep up with him and two active children. It was a blustery day, the great rushes of wind invigorating, the crash of the waves on the rocks below like the sea's heartbeat. They took a path that wound its way above the surf, far enough from the cliff edge to feel safe. There were few trees, and those small, but the ground was covered with bushy plants and green spears that Clare thought were nascent wildflowers. At last, when Randolph was sniffing at some fascinating bit of greenery, she dared, “He is so happy outdoors, isn't he? He can't like being shut up in one room.” She ignored the issue of the stables.

“He used to live in the whole house,” replied Tegan with a jutting jaw.

“
Before
,” agreed her sister, putting a wealth of emotion into the word.

“I suppose he could again, if he were trained,” Clare replied. “We had dogs about the house when I was a child.”

“You won't beat him!” declared Tamsyn.

“Why would I do that?”

“John said he needed some sense beat into him,” said Tegan.

“But we won't allow it.”

“We will throw ourselves in the way and—”

“What was Randolph doing when John said that?” Clare wondered, suspecting that the old man had been at the end of his rope.

The twins looked away. “Eating some roast beef,” Tamsyn murmured.

“Off the kitchen table,” Tegan admitted.

“We know he mustn't climb on the furniture.”

“But Anna left the joint just sitting there.”

“She knows he…” Tamsyn didn't seem to have an ending for this sentence that she wished to share. Randolph anointed the branch he'd been sniffing with his own interesting odor and moved on. As they followed, Clare said, “If you teach him better behavior, he can have the freedom of the house again. Mind, he cannot jump up on visitors. I will not have that.”

The girls looked at their giant pet, bounding through the bushes as if his legs had springs. “He doesn't always listen,” allowed Tamsyn regretfully.

“He never listens,” Tegan corrected. “Except to Jamie.”

Tamsyn looked at her sister. They communed silently for a moment, then looked away from each other again.

“Well, there is the solution, then. He can help you train Randolph.” It seemed an obvious idea to Clare. She couldn't understand why they hadn't done this already. But as she watched identical expressions pass across the girls' faces—hope, regret, then a careful stoicism—she realized it might be more complicated than she knew.

Tamsyn shook her head. Tegan bent hers in a resigned gesture that seemed all too habitual. “I don't think he would have time to do that,” Tamsyn said.

Clare read a whole history in the simple sentence—of promises made and broken. “I will ask him to do so,” said Clare. A tremor of uneasiness went through her as the twins raised startled dark eyes to hers. Would Jamie agree? Had he ever glimpsed that fearful longing in his sisters' faces? Was he the sort of man who could ignore it? She didn't want to think so, yet the twins had clearly been disappointed before.

Ahead of them, Randolph leapt into the air, barking at a diving gull. The bird teased him closer to the cliff edge, and the twins ran forward, calling the dog's name. With a final defiant snap of his great jaws at the bird, he turned and loped toward them, ears flapping, eyes bright within their dark diamonds of fur. The meeting of children and dog on the path was the very picture of joy. He bounced between them, licking hands and faces, egged on by their laughter. It was the first time Clare had seen Tamsyn and Tegan romping like carefree children, and the sight made her laugh as well. It was settled; Randolph was part of the household. He would not be ejected.

They walked on a little farther and then turned back toward the house. When Clare judged that the girls' suspicions were at their lowest ebb, she sprang the trap she'd been preparing. “I wondered if you would care to come along on the expedition to Penzance?”

The twins stopped moving and stared at her.

“Have you been there before?”

In unison, they shook their heads.

“We will have to stay overnight, of course.”

“At an inn?” asked Tamsyn.

“Yes, your brother says there is a very pleasant one, The Admiral Benbow.”

“Why?” demanded Tegan.

Clare raised her eyebrows, waiting for more.

“Why would you take us?” the girl added. “No one…”

“We've never…” began her sister at the same moment.

Clare saw them withdrawing, retreating from the risk of disappointment. “You need some new clothes, just as I do,” she said. “We're going to see about dressmakers in Penzance. Or, more likely, purchase cloth. Selina… Mrs. Newton is an accomplished seamstress.”

“Dressmakers,” repeated Tamsyn.

“Yes.” Clare met their dark eyes, her own steady and uncompromising, making it clear that new clothes were in their future, however it was accomplished. She dared another nudge. “Did you notice the charming gown Margaret Palgrove was wearing?” She'd wondered if the twins had marked the contrast between their shabby attire and the other little girl's lovely outfit. From the flicker in their gazes, they had.

“So, we can go to Penzance to get dresses,” Tamsyn said slowly.

“But if we don't
want
dresses?” Tegan ventured.

“Then there wouldn't be any need for you to make a tiring journey,” Clare said.

The girls looked at each other, then back at Clare. “You're going to be buying furniture, too.” It wasn't a question. Clearly, they'd been paying attention to the dinner conversations.

“Yes, I am.”

“We might like some things for our room.”

Clare smiled down at them. They gazed up. The gauntlet she'd thrown down had been taken. The bargaining had begun.

The females of the Trehearth household left for Penzance early the next morning, on a brisk, sunny March day that was ideal for travel. Their hired carriage was a bit crowded, but fortunately the twins were small and did not object to sitting forward. They had even donned gowns and cloaks without protest. The distance was not great, but the roads were winding and narrow, so the journey took some hours. The girls stared avidly out the windows all the way.

Their eyes grew large when the carriage entered the bustling market town with its broad harbor. Penzance was nothing compared to London, but it was far larger than any village the twins had seen before. With its docks full of ships, it had an active trade with the capital, and Clare knew that she could easily communicate with her bank and any sort of merchant she required.

They left their valises at The Admiral Benbow and, armed with directions from the innkeeper, set off into the streets. Visits to two local dressmakers quickly convinced Selina that she could do far better herself, and as soon as they were outside once again, she said so. “Are you sure?” Clare asked her. “You are a guest at Trehearth, not a seamstress. I don't wish to take advantage of you.”

“I shall enjoy it,” Selina assured her. “It will be such a pleasure to choose whatever cloth we like best, without worrying about the cost.” She raised her brows to show she was half joking. “And trimmings? I shall indulge myself shamefully with trimmings.” She rubbed her hands together like a stage villain, making Clare laugh. “You know I am far more familiar with London fashions than the people here.”

“You are.” Clare glanced at the twins, who were peering through the window of a tea shop a little way ahead. Fitting them was unlikely to be a pleasure.

Seeing the direction of her gaze, Selina shrugged. “I shall count on you to deal with them,” she added.

This decided, they set off for the dry goods emporium that Jamie had recommended and spent a happy two hours examining bolts of cloth. To Clare's surprise, Tamsyn and Tegan did not appear to be bored. Though they pretended disinterest at first, after only a little while they began to listen to Selina's astute judgments on colors and quality and expressed decided opinions on the patterns they preferred. Catching Tamsyn fingering a length of bright silk, Clare and Selina exchanged a secret glance. The girls were not so indifferent to fashion after all.

The delighted proprietor cut and folded their selections, for draperies and cushion covers as well as gowns, and filled out an order for fabric Selina wanted that he did not have. He assured them that he could procure these, and whatever else they might wish, from London in a matter of two weeks. When they had completed their transactions, he sent his assistant along to carry their large bundles back to the inn. There, they ate a late luncheon and then proceeded to the premises of another merchant, down near the quay. This enterprising gentleman had come up with the idea of stocking samples of goods from London in his warehouse. Local residents could view them and place orders, which he then had shipped down from town. The innovation had made him one of the richest men in Penzance.

Hearing of Lady Trehearth's visit, and aware of her hefty bank balance from discreet hints at the local businessman's club, he guided them around the large building himself. Clare chose sofas, chairs, and tables from the models he displayed, specifying upholstery fabrics from a selection of pattern cards he kept, and was promised that her orders would be sent off by the very next ship. Tamsyn and Tegan discovered several pieces they admired and were allowed to choose one each. Clare had never felt more in charity with them.

The day was waning by the time they'd finished, and they walked back to the inn in the slanting light of sunset. “A productive expedition,” Selina commented. Clare agreed and then realized that Tamsyn and Tegan were no longer trailing behind them. Perhaps they had finally gotten bored. She feared some prank or outburst as she turned to look for them.

The girls were only a little way back, however, their noses pressed against the windows of a harness maker. The shop was closed, but a fine saddle was prominently displayed, the leather finely worked and highly polished. Tegan was pointing out a feature to her sister. Clare started to call to them and then walked quietly back along the street instead. “Do you remember when old Samkins let us ride his pony?” Tegan was saying.

Tamsyn nodded fervently. “It was glorious.”

“He was just a fat old plodder,” Tegan scoffed. “But do you think
she
would…?” Noticing Clare's approach, she broke off. Clare simply smiled, congratulated herself on her sharp hearing, and made a silent note for the future.

***

Sitting down to dinner that evening, Jamie found that the dining room seemed much larger and very empty. Though he'd often wished for peace and quiet here, after some wrangle with his incorrigible sisters, tonight he missed the sound of chatter, even Tamsyn's and Tegan's pert replies. In a surprisingly short time he'd become accustomed to conversation around the table at the end of a busy day, and the lilt of one voice in particular.

The whirlwind of cleaning and scouring that had seemed an irritation when it was all happening around him had opened the place up. Trehearth had gone from dusty and forlorn to bustling with life, and now back to echoing silence, even though the new maid Gwen and the Pendennises were in the kitchen. Clare had wrought the change, Jamie thought. She'd given his home new energy. But with her gone, the rooms threatened to fall back into neglected stupor. He sipped his wine and knew he was very glad that she was returning tomorrow.

***

The next morning Clare and Selina took care of a few other commissions, ordering smaller items for the house and visiting a local hiring agency. The carriage had been summoned for the journey back to Trehearth when the twins came to them with an urgent request. They wanted to visit Lescudjack Castle. “We haven't seen anything but shops,” argued Tegan, stretching the truth a bit.

“It isn't far,” said Tamsyn.

“It would be very educational,” her sister added, using the magic word that nearly always swayed adults.

“I didn't know there was a castle here,” Selina commented. She had a weakness for ramparts. “Shall we, Clare?”

“Why not?” Clare was elated at the success of her shopping and the twins' good behavior. She was happy to reward them by adding this viewing to their travels.

After getting advice from the innkeeper, they drove up the coast for several miles, in the opposite direction from Trehearth, finally pulling up before a great turfed hill. The twins were out of the carriage in a flash and running up it. Clare and Selina followed as quickly as they could manage. “But where is the castle?” Selina wondered. “Are you sure we're in the right place?”

“The driver says so,” Clare replied.

Near the top of the rise they traversed a deep ditch, struggling up a sharp incline on the other side. The twins stood atop it, looking down. “Breeches are much better for exploring,” Tamsyn said when they joined the girls, puffing a bit from the exertion.

“Skirts are stupid,” Tegan agreed.

Saving her breath, Clare looked out at the scene before them. The hilltop was ringed by a great oval wall of stones and earth and grass, part of which they stood upon. A steep valley fell away to the east, and the slope went down to the sea on the south and west. Inside the oval were circles of old stones and mounds that might have been ruins. “Why do they call it a castle?” she wondered. The word evoked stone towers and crenellations in her mind. This was more an earthwork.

“Because people are stupid,” Tegan replied. “It's a hill fort.”

“No one even says it right,” Tamsyn added. “
Lys
Scosek
means shielded stronghold in the old people's language.”

“That's what John calls them—the old people.”

“Reverend Carew says they were the ancient Britons.”

“There are ruins of their houses and circles of stones all over the countryside.”

“They lived here?” Clare hadn't seen the twins so animated before.

The twins shook their heads in unison. “They came up here when there was danger,” Tamsyn answered.

“They could fight off their enemies from the walls.”

“There's room for a whole tribe, and their animals and all.”

“There'll be a spring somewhere,” Tegan continued. “For water.”

“Let's look for it,” Clare suggested.

Tegan, who had clearly been about to argue for permission to do just that, blinked. Then the girls were off, running down the inner slope into the center of the oval.

The women followed more slowly. “They obviously have a passion for this subject,” Selina observed. Her tone was somewhat grudging, but her face showed that she was impressed by the girls' knowledge.

One of the twins suddenly disappeared from view. Clare hurried forward, only to find that she had stepped down into a shallow pit surrounded by a rough stone wall. “This was one of their houses,” Tamsyn said.

Watching her footing, Clare joined her. She examined the rocks, the hint of a hearth in the center. “A family lived here—long ago?”

“When there were battles,” Tamsyn replied.

Clare imagined women and children crouched in this little structure, listening to the clash of arms from the surrounding walls, overhearing the blows that would decide their fate. Or perhaps they weren't here, but nearer the defenses, aiding the fighters, playing their own part. Why not? She met Tamsyn's dark eyes and saw her curiosity and awe mirrored there. “You can almost feel echoes of them still here.”

The girl held her gaze. After a moment, she nodded, acknowledging an instant of fellow feeling. Clare wanted to smile, but she didn't; the rapprochement felt too fragile. Any expression might be misinterpreted. But privately she thought that the twins' unusual lives, though plagued by difficulties, had produced a pair of very interesting children.

“I found the spring,” called Tegan from across the grassy expanse. They all hurried over to look at a seep of water at the base of the wall. It was nearly silted up, but signs of a stone pool could still be seen.

“It must flow through the earth down to the sea,” said Selina.

“They would have lined the pool with clay,” Tegan informed them. “To hold the water.”

“And pulled it out with buckets,” Tamsyn said. The girls bent over the spring like consulting scholars, then ran off to circle the entire oval, searching for more discoveries.

Reluctant to curb the twins' excitement, and actually glad for them to work off some energy before the carriage journey, Clare allowed their visit to extend through the morning. They ate the picnic lunch the inn had provided next to the swell of the forted hill and set off far later than she'd planned. It was growing dark by the time they reached Trehearth, and all of them were very ready to be home.

Jamie rushed out to meet the carriage as soon as it pulled up. “Where have you been? I expected you hours ago.” The anxiety that had been building in him as the afternoon passed flashed into irritation when he saw them all safe.

“We stopped to see an ancient site,” Clare answered. “It was very…”

Jamie turned on the twins. “Your idea, no doubt.” He'd been sitting in Clare's solar with a bottle of claret, imagining shattered axles and broken bodies tossed bloodily into the road with increasing vividness as the level of wine went down. His worries seemed foolish now, but it was not the first time in his life that he'd felt vulnerable to the vagaries of fate. Far from it. And this one had cut with a particular edge. His irritation spiked unreasonably. “You must always have your way, no matter how much it inconveniences…”

“Jamie.”

The quiet way that Clare spoke his name stopped him cold. Jamie saw his small sisters standing beside the coach, their shoulders hunched, their identical faces gone stony. He turned away to hide his shame. “Dinner is waiting.”

The group dispersed to doff their cloaks and wash their faces. John Pendennis appeared to help the driver unload the mound of parcels they'd brought with them. Much more would arrive by wagon tomorrow. Over dinner, Clare and Selina reviewed their successful purchases for the master of the house, but the meal was not convivial. Tamsyn and Tegan had gone silent and withdrawn. Jamie brooded. Everyone seemed relieved when Clare suggested an early bedtime after their journey.

She herself welcomed the solitude of her bedchamber, the bright fire, the quiet after the rattle and bounce of the carriage. Yet when she sat down to read, she could not keep her eyes on the page. She was a little tired, but not actually sleepy; physically worn, but restless. The details of the evening nagged at her, lowering her mood.

It was the character of her new family, she realized. Jamie and his sisters seemed scarcely able to speak to each other without clashing. In Penzance, she'd felt she was learning more about the twins, perhaps gaining their confidence in a small way. As soon as they reached home, however, that budding rapport was shattered by Jamie's harsh remarks. And the resulting tension had made the whole household unhappy. He was so quick to blame them.

Clare had no doubt that the twins had played a host of pranks, amply earning his distrust. But perhaps they'd had reason. They seemed to have been left to their own devices far too much. One thing she knew for certain: expecting them to rebel was not the way to change their behavior. Clare rose and paced from her chair to the long window overlooking the sea. She hadn't properly explained her ideas on how to handle them. She should speak to Jamie now, when there was no possibility of the twins overhearing.

Clare went to the door that divided their bedchambers. She hesitated a moment, still a bit shy, then knocked. When she heard a response, she opened the door and found Jamie sprawled in a chair by the fire, bootless, a glass of brandy in his hand. He looked up, and Clare felt as if his gaze brushed her with heat.
How
could
his
dark
eyes
seem
at
once
hot
and
fathomless?
she wondered. “I wanted to speak to you about your sisters,” she said before they could distract her completely. She sat in the chair on the opposite side of the hearth.