Fallen Angel (5 page)

He had been told by numerous people that he could be quite intimidating. He saw no reason to doubt that it was a fair observation, because one black scowl from him, and the butler at once lost his air of pompous self
-
importance and seemed to shrink in upon himself.

“On the other hand, Miss Jolliffe,” the man said,
cringing away from Gabriel as if trying to ward off a blow, “you are doubtless chilled from your journey, so it might be better if you joined your family in the drawing room, and I’ll just see to the gentleman’s horses myself.” Making a wide circle around Gabriel, he hurried out, closing the door behind him.

Again without waiting for any assistance, Miss Jolliffe removed her cloak and bonnet and laid them on a chair.

“Do you know, someone should give you lessons in the proper way for a lady to behave,” Gabriel said, his tone sarcastic.

“Oh dear, I am so sorry,” she said. “May I take your coat and hat?” She moved toward him, but with a scowl he forestalled her.

“It is not a matter for you to assist me, but you should have waited for me to assist you. You are making it very difficult for me to play the role of gentleman.” Removing his coat, he tossed it carelessly on another chair, then laid his top hat down on a small table.

“Well, I suppose I could always put my cloak back on again,” she said, tipping her head to one side as if she were actually considering doing just that. He could see a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, and although it was gone in an instant, he was not taken in by her meek manner.

He had noticed at the Crown and Thistle that she was on the tall side for a woman, and now, without the enveloping folds of her cloak, he saw that she was also quite skinny. Mentally he compared her lack of curves to his mistress’s well-endowed figure, and he could easily understand why Miss Jolliffe “had not taken.” Most men, himself included, preferred more abundant charms.

But his staring was beginning to discompose her, so he offered her his arm. “Shall we join your family?” he asked.

Although she was obviously reluctant to meet her fate, she rested her hand on his arm and together they mounted the stairs to the first floor, where she led the way to the drawing room.

The proportions of the chamber were bad, with the ceiling far too low for the size of the room, and the furnishings had a heaviness about them that completely negated the innate beauty of the woods and fabrics from which they had been fashioned.

Doubtless Sir Sidney and his wife harbored the mistaken opinion that their manor house pronounced to all the world that here dwelt a prosperous, substantial family, worthy of inclusion in the highest ranks of society, but the word which came to Gabriel’s mind when he studied the room and its occupants was
sullen.

The entire family was gathered for tea—at least everyone Miss Jolliffe had previously described to him seemed to be present. The older couple sitting rigidly side by side on a massive upholstered couch were undoubtedly her parents, and the rather paunchy, middle-aged dandy holding a quizzing glass up to his eye was no doubt the heir apparent. The woman with frown lines already etched between her eyes and three children of assorted ages and sexes seated on stools at her feet would, of course, be the sister-in-law.

It took Gabriel only a single glance around the room to realize that he had once again misinterpreted Miss Jolliffe’s motives. Her reluctance to invite him in had not been caused by a desire to save herself from a proper scolding, but rather she had obviously been trying to spare him this unpleasant meeting with her relatives, who appeared to be even more surly and oafish than his own.

“I cannot believe my eyes,” her brother said, his sneer becoming more pronounced. “We expected you weeks ago, and here you have waited until the very last minute.”

“Really, Verity, it is most inconsiderate of you not to have come in time to help,” his wife added in a shrill voice that grated on Gabriel’s nerves. “After I have slaved away getting everything ready for Christmas, you appear on our doorstep when all the work is done. It is too much, I tell you.”

At the first pause in the conversation—if one could call the steady stream of recriminations directed at her a conversation—Miss Jolliffe introduced him to her family, again referring to him as Mr. Sherington, rather than Lord Sherington.

“Never heard of you,” her father growled, and after Gabriel had been thus dismissed, none of the adults exhibited any further interest in him.

Instead they began bickering among themselves as to which of them was most inconvenienced by the tardiness of Miss Jolliffe’s visit. Only the three children remained mum, staring at him as if he were some kind of freak displayed at a street market in Rangoon. Their faces, even at their young ages, were already beginning to show the same repulsiveness as their elders, and there arose in Gabriel’s mind an image of the greasy broth made from maggoty beef that he had often been forced to eat on board ship.

Miss Jolliffe appeared unruffled by her family’s diatribe, and she murmured conciliatory phrases while pouring herself and Gabriel some tea.

He was not sure why he felt compelled to speak up in the end. Perhaps it was simply because as plain as she was, Miss Jolliffe did not appear to belong in this ugly room. Or perhaps he wished to have an opportunity to quiz her as to why she was so determined to reach home in time for Christmas, when home meant nothing but rejection. Or more likely it was some misguided feeling of pity that caused him to speak out, deliberately raising
his
voice loud enough to momentarily halt the others’ conversation.

“When do you mean to return to London, Miss Jolliffe? It may well be convenient for you to drive back with me to catch the stage in Belford.”

“Oh, I could not ask you to put yourself to so much trouble,” she began.

Her father interrupted before Gabriel could press his invitation. “But you care little how much inconvenience you put me to, is that it, daughter? Well, I’ll not be hitching up my horses to drive you just because you’re too missish to accept this gentleman’s offer. If you want to be so niffy-naffy in your ways, you can
walk
to Belford for all I care.”

“I had thought to return on January ninth,” Verity said softly, and this time it was her mother who reprimanded her.

“You’ll go when this gentleman finds it convenient, and I’ll brook no arguments,” the old woman said tartly.

Feeling the need for some fresh air and solitude, Gabriel stood up and said, “January ninth will be fine for me. And now if you will excuse me, I need to continue my journey. The days are short this time of year, and I wish to reach my destination before nightfall.”

No one made any effort to detain him longer, but when Miss Jolliffe started to rise from her seat to show him out, her father told her crossly that she was not dismissed, and she obediently sank back down in her chair, casting Gabriel a look of apology that he did not feel was necessary to acknowledge.

Deliberately leaving the door partly ajar behind him, Gabriel paused in the corridor and listened with idle curiosity to the questions being asked about him—questions about his business and his familial connections that Miss Jolliffe was quite unable to answer in a way that her relatives found the least bit satisfactory.

He soon abandoned his listening post and descended the stairs. If he had harbored any doubts about his decision not to entertain his relatives at Sherington Close, he was now completely convinced that coming north had been the right course.

Just so would his relatives have engaged in bickering among themselves, alternating with casting venomous remarks in his direction.

Miss Jolliffe, he decided while the butler obsequiously helped him on with his driving coat and then respectfully handed over his top hat, was proving after all to be a fool, despite her knowledge of sheep raising in Northumberland.

By the time dinner was over, Verity had managed to cajole her family into a somewhat better mood, although she rather suspected her meek responses to their complaints were not the sole reason for their grudging acceptance of her presence in their midst.

More than likely her mother and sister-in-law had bethought themselves of several household chores that had not yet been done—tasks they could now assign to Verity.

As soon as her mother rose from the table, signaling that it was time for the ladies to leave the men to their port, Verity excused herself on the grounds that she still had her unpacking to do. Instead of going to her bedroom, however, she slipped up the back stairs to the small room under the eaves where her grandmother had spent her declining years.

The sparsely furnished room with its sloping ceiling and single tiny window had changed little in the five years since her grandmother had died. Her parents did not need it for the servants, and it was too mean a room to offer to a guest.

Wrapping a threadbare woolen shawl around her shoulders, Verity seated herself in her grandmother’s rocking chair, seeking the comfort she usually found from being surrounded by her grandmother’s possessions.

But after only a few minutes, she stood up, walked to the window, and looked out across the moonlit fells. With her forehead against the cold glass, she admitted to herself that it was not her grandmother’s loving embrace she was missing the most at this moment.

Straining her eyes as if she might somehow see beyond the distant horizon, she thought about Mr. Sherington and wondered where he was and what he might be doing.

He had been right to warn her about strangers, but he had been wrong when he said he was not dangerous.

Although she had believed him completely when he said he was no threat to her person, she rather feared he was going to be a threat to her heart.

At odd moments during his stay in Northumberland, Gabriel found himself thinking about Miss Jolliffe and wondering what she was doing. Was she perhaps at this moment being chastised by her mother or browbeaten by her sister-in-law? Criticized by her father or belittled by her brother? Or was she merely being forced to look after those three repulsive children?

By the time the New Year arrived, he actually felt a slight impatience to see her again—to discover for himself how she was surviving in the loving bosom of her family—and he almost sent her a message setting forward their departure date. But then the weather improved, and his attention turned to other activities.

On the morning of the ninth of January, Gabriel arose quite early, and having the previous day instructed his servants—who unlike his London household were remarkably deferential to his wishes, perhaps because none of the previous earls had deigned to come this far north—he set forth on his journey just as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

Since he had likewise had the forethought to send Miss Jolliffe word that he meant to pick her up quite early, he was reasonably sure that he could avoid furthering his acquaintance with the other members of the Jo
lliffe
household. Still, he derived some amusement on the short trip to Sir Sidney’s residence by imagining how impatiently Miss Jolliffe must be awaiting his arrival.

He fully expected her to be in a foul humor after two weeks with her relatives—doubtless by this time she was wishing them all in Jericho—and he resolved to treat her with forbearance. After all, he had enjoyed an agreeable holiday, while she had
...
? Again he wondered what she might have been forced to endure, but he was sure she would soon be regaling him with a detailed account of all that she had suffered.

With a feeling of anticipation, he reined in his team in front of the manor, which was dark and still in the early morning light, and which offered no indication that anyone was stirring inside.

Deliberately disregarding the butler’s admonition to rap gently, Gabriel banged the door knocker loudly enough to wake every occupant of the house, and before the last echo died away, the door was opened by Miss Jolliffe herself.

Clutching her portmanteau, she emerged from the house and pulled the door firmly shut behind her.

“Did you not bring two bags with you?” he asked, handing her up into the carriage and tossing her portmanteau in on top of his own. “I have no wish to turn back a mile or two down the road because you have discovered you have forgotten half of your things.”

“Indeed no,” she replied, displaying the same serenity of spirit she’d had when he’d left her two weeks previous. “The other portmanteau was filled with presents for my family.”

Beginning to feel a trifle irked by her unflagging good humor, he asked rather nastily, “And did your family not reciprocate in full measure? Did they not load you down with presents to take back with you?”

Turning to gaze earnestly up at him, she said, “No, but then I was not expecting to receive anything.”

Her calm acceptance of this injustice angered him. Had she no backbone at all? Why did she not stand up to her relatives? Why did she meekly tolerate their criticism, which he was sure was unjustified.

“You are a fool to try to buy their love,” he snapped out.

“I did not intend for the presents to be bribes,” she said without raising her voice. “Christmas is a time for giving gifts to the ones we love.”

He was amazed—nay, he was astounded. “You love them? That is preposterous! No one could love such narrow-minded, selfish, self-centered bores. If I had relatives like yours, I would avoid them like the plague. As a matter of fact, I do have relatives just as obnoxious as yours, and I make every effort to be where they are not.”

“But I still love them, despite what you say, because they are my family.”

“Bah! I had not thought you a complete fool, Miss Jolliffe, but it appears I was wrong.”