Joan Smith (6 page)

She emitted a frightened squeak and jumped back. “Let us go, Nick,” she said. “He
touched
me!” Nick looked unhappily surprised at her reaction.

“Ha ha! I’d like to do more than touch you, saucy wench!” Lord Goderich cackled. “Come here and give me a kiss.”

Aurelia said, “Ohhh!” in horrified accents, and fled from the room.

“Now, Uncle, behave yourself,” Nick said, laughing in spite of himself. “Miss Aurelia is my girl.”

“And a mighty tasty morsel she is, too. Is she good in bed?”

“Time will tell.”

“You don’t want to let Ramsey’s gel get wind of what you are up to, lad. Mistresses are fine in their place, but you shouldn’t have brought her here. Don’t sow your wild oats in the home paddock.”

Nick saw there was no point repeating that Aurelia was his fiancée. Rational conversation was so difficult that he said, “Are you on for a battle, Uncle?”

“Get the soldiers,” was Goderich’s reply.

Nicholas arranged the soldiers on the counterpane and they engaged in a short battle. When it was over, he put his arms around his uncle and hugged him. He was astonished at how fiercely his uncle returned the pressure. When he stood back, there were tears in the old man’s eyes.

“That felt good,” he said. “A man needs a human touch from time to time, even an old relic like myself. I miss my good lady. I do.”

“I’ll come to tuck you in tonight.”

“You do that. You’re a good lad, Ronnie.”

Ronald was Lord Goderich’s son, who had died so young. Goderich had been like a father to Nick, and he was pleased that his presence could bring some pleasure to the old man in his last days. He remembered his uncle as a vibrant man, riding to hounds, or sitting at the head of his table, at other times receiving callers in his study. The most important man in the parish—and now he had come to this pathetic figure, begging for a human touch. Nick was in a pensive mood when he joined Aurelia, who had waited all the time in the corridor.

“I don’t want to go in there anymore, Nick,” she said. “That old man frightens me.”

“He frightens me, too,” Nick said. “I don’t like these reminders of mortality.”

They went, hand in hand, to the staircase. Nick clung to her as his uncle had clung to him, as if holding on to life.

“Then we won’t have to see him again?” she asked.

A sharp rebuke rose in his throat, but he quelled it down. It wasn’t Aurelia he was angry with, but life, or more accurately, death. Goderich could mean nothing to her.

He said, “Naturally I must visit him. He is my uncle—for all practical purposes, my father. There is no need for you to see him, if it displeases you.” But he thought it would be nice if she could have put up with the old man, for his sake.

“He called me a wench!”

“He called me Ronald.”

“There you are, then. He doesn’t even recognize you. He cannot leave the estate and title to anyone else, can he? Marie said it was entailed.”

“No, he can’t.”

Aurelia noticed that Nick was unhappy, and naturally assumed that she was the cause. To atone for whatever she had done wrong, she said, “You should let him see you in your regimentals, Nick. I wager he would like that.”

“So he would. I shall be sure to visit him in full regalia.”

Pelham had drawn a table up in front of the grate when they went below. He and Jane were gathering the ingredients for the mulled wine, which would be made over the grate after dinner. Jane looked up when Nick and Aurelia entered, and knew at once that something was bothering Nick. His eyes wore that shadowed look again.

“How is your uncle? Not worse, I hope?” she asked.

“About the same. I must visit him more often. He is lonesome up there.”

“Shall I go up now? I could take some cards, or read to him for an hour before dinner.”

“You don’t mind? He might—

“Pinch my bottom?” she asked, and laughed. “He has tried that before now. I can keep him in line, never fear.” Then she frowned. “Though I hate doing it, somehow. I remember him as he was in the old days, so powerful. Almost forbidding.”

Nick gazed at her a moment, with a pained look in his eyes. “Yes, I was just thinking something like that myself.” He took her hands in his and said, “It would be a kindness if you would visit him, Jane.”

“I shall go at once.”

When Nick went up to change for dinner an hour later, he heard laughter coming from his uncle’s room, and went to investigate. Jane had pulled a chair up to the bedside and was playing a simple card game of all fours with Goderich.

“My point!” Goderich exclaimed, and cackled in glee.

She tapped his hand playfully. “Cheat! You know perfectly well that was my ace!”

“Heh heh. I win! Game over. You must pay the forfeit!” Goderich looked up when Nick entered. “Ah, here is Nick!” he exclaimed.

Nick noticed that his uncle was smiling. Even his eyes looked a little brighter—and he had not mistaken him for Ronald.

“Pay up, miss!” Nick said, stepping in.

“You don’t deserve it. I know perfectly well you cheated,” Jane scolded, but she placed a quick kiss on the old man’s cheek.

“It is time to dress for dinner, Jane,” Nick said.

“You’ve come to steal my girl away, eh?” Goderich said archly. “Can’t say I blame you. She is a prime and plummy chick.” Then he turned to Jane. “If you promise to come back tomorrow, I’ll let you win,” he said.

“I see what you are up to, sly dog!” Nick chided. “You just want an excuse to kiss Jane.”

“And who shall blame me?” Goderich responded. “She is a fine-looking woman. Mighty fine.”

Jane rose and curtsied. “Thank you, kind sir. Now I must eat. And so must you. Your sister tells me you have not been eating properly.”

“Scold, scold, scold! You ladies are all alike,” Goderich said, but he looked pleased with the attention.

“This is very kind of you,” Nick said as he accompanied Jane to her room. “Uncle looks better already, after your visit.”

“We found visits helped with my grandpapa, when he was ill in bed for so long. The doctor said the stimulation of company was good for him. It keeps the mind active, you know. It will be even better, having you home, Nick. What a shame he will not be able to attend your wedding.”

“I fear the church is beyond him, but I have not given up hope entirely.”

“You must take Aurelia in to visit him, in her wedding gown, at least.”

“Yes. A pity she is frightened of Uncle. Or perhaps disgusted with his senility. He does look odd with his hair so long, and that beard.”

“She is young. She will get used to his ways, in time. She is very sweet, and eager to please you. Could you not convince your uncle to have his hair cut, and a shave?”

Nick smiled at her in a conning way. “I wonder if a pretty young lady would not have more success in that line? I wager you could tease him into it.”

They had reached her door. She curtsied and said, “I shall try my poor best.”

A pretty flush suffused Jane’s cheeks at Nick’s intimation that he found her attractive. In the shadowed hallway, her Titian curls looked nearly black, forming a dramatic contrast to her ivory skin. He realized that, as his uncle had deteriorated, Jane had blossomed from a pretty young hoyden into a beautiful, poised woman. What a wonderful wife she was going to make for some fortunate gentleman.

He leaned against the doorjamb and said, “Are you seeing anyone, Jane?”

She looked startled at the question. “A beau, do you mean?”

“Yes. Is it not high time you were choosing your husband?”

“Strange you should ask. As a matter of fact, I had an offer just today.”

“Today! But you haven’t seen anyone.”

“Au
contraire!
I have seen Pelham.”

“Pelham!” he exclaimed, detaching himself from the doorjamb to stare at her. “Good God, you can’t be serious.”

“Why not? He is eligible. I have known him forever, and like him very much. He is only a distant cousin, if that—”

“But you can’t love him!”

“Well,” she said consideringly, “I don’t exactly love him, but I think I might try. As you said, it is time I choose a husband, and they are in rather short supply hereabouts. When he kissed me—”

Nick’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Kissed you? It has reached that stage, has it? Stealing kisses behind doors.”

“No, under the kissing bough.”

“That was only a peck on the cheek. Have there been more . , . shall we say, ardent embraces?” He watched as a light flush rose up her throat to color her cheeks. He could not remember ever having seen Jane blush before. Damme, if she hadn’t gone and grown up on him. And done a fine job of it, too. He found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss Jane Ramsey. A tingling along his veins cautioned him of the impropriety of his thoughts.

“Nothing that caused an assault of thunderbolts,” she admitted.

“Then you don’t love him. You have only decided it is time to marry. Pel is not the man for you. He—”

She gave him a very knowing look. “He is not only my cousin, but your best friend, Nick. I hope you aren’t going to say something horrid. I know he is a bit awkward, but he has a heart of gold. Looks are not so important to a lady as they seem to be to a gentleman.”

Nick just stared. She was serious! It was the most ludicrous thing he had ever heard, to think of Jane marrying Pelham. He wiped his hand across his mouth, as if to wipe away the words that wanted to come out.

“Well, if that don’t beat the Dutch!” he said, and strode angrily away. What did she mean by that crack about looks being so important to a gentleman? Was she implying some lack in Aurelia? Aurelia was only eighteen. What did she expect? The savoir faire of a dowager?

Jane’s heart was pounding when she closed her door and lit the lamp. What a strange reaction! She had thought Nick would be happy at her choice. The old circle of friends complete again, enlarged by the addition of Nick’s wife. They could have wonderful times together. But Nick was definitely not pleased—and he hadn’t even the grace to let on he was. She was bending over backwards to be nice to Aurelia. Why could he not say something nice about his best friend?

Nick saw no evidence, that evening, of Jane Ramsey and Pel being anything but the good friends they had always been. The family party was enlarged by a dozen neighbors who had been invited for dinner, but that need not have prevented the couple from displaying some tokens of affection. He had only an occasional moment to consider the shocking thing Jane had told him. He was kept busy greeting guests and accepting their compliments on his military career, his return to Clareview, and of course, his betrothal.

Aurelia had a tendency to freeze into silence when presented with a crowd of strangers, so that he had to stay close to her and occasionally smooth her conversational path. His neighbors beamed on her, apparently well pleased with his choice. If there were a few more jokes about Oldham Ale than he would have liked, he was careful not to reveal it.

Old Lady Bingham got him aside and said conspiratorially, “Your young gel is nothing to be ashamed of, Nick. Lizzie will show her how to go on in society. Half the aristocracy are snapping up these rich merchants’ daughters. It seems to me you have got the best of the lot. Oldham’s daughter! What size of dot is he giving her?”

“We have not discussed details yet, ma’am,” he replied stiffly. “I am not marrying a dowry, but a lady.”

“That’s it! Mount up on your high horse and stare them all down. But just between ourselves—how much?”

“Enough,” he said, as Lady Bingham was a good friend of his aunt’s, and he could not like to insult her.

He heard whispers of forty or fifty thousand, which was ludicrous. Townsend had four children. Presumably the bulk of the fortune would go to his son. He had only met Mr. Townsend once, for a brief visit. He had not offered for Aurelia at the time. It was Marie who had given her consent to the marriage. She had told him her papa had given herself, the eldest daughter, twenty thousand, the second daughter fifteen, and Aurelia was to get ten, which was certainly not sufficient to “buy” him, if he were for sale. The ten thousand, however, appeared to be a flexible sum, capable of doubling if it should be necessary.

Immediately after dinner, Nick and Pelham joined Jane and Aurelia at the grate, where they were beginning to prepare the mulled wine. The other guests sat around the room in groups, gossiping and getting caught up on the news.

“One cup of water for a pint of wine,” Pelham read. “I have four quarts of wine in the pan. Toss in eight cups of water, Jane.”

“The sugar and spice have to be added to the boiling water first,” she reminded him.

“She’s reached a rolling boil now,” he said, peering into the steaming pot. “Here, let me lift the kettle off the flame and ladle it out. I don’t want you to burn yourself.”

Nick looked sharp at this speech. It was the first one he had heard that held any tinge of concern for Jane. He noticed that Jane smiled fondly in appreciation. Pelham placed the boiling water on the apron of the grate.

“What spices do you use? Let me do that,” Aurelia said. “I want to learn.”

Pelham peered at the receipt book. “Cloves, nutmeg, and cinnamon. Here, Jane has measured them out.”

He handed her a bowl of ground cinnamon sticks and cloves, with a whole nutmeg on the side of the dish. Jane poured in the sugar, and Aurelia dumped in the spices.

Pelham frowned as the nutmeg danced around the top of the water. “It seems to me we used to grate the nutmeg, didn’t we?”

“Yes, it has to be grated,” Jane explained to Aurelia.

Pelham drew it out with a spoon and dried it off. “Here you go,” he said, handing it back to Aurelia, who looked at it in confusion.

“What do you grate it with?” she asked.

“A grater,” Pelham replied.

Jane handed her the grater and showed her how to grate the nutmeg. Before she had been grating for a minute, she handed it to Nick.

“Here, lazybones. Your turn,” she said.

Nick knew this was exactly the sort of evening he had been wishing for. His friends were here; they were performing the old rituals together, yet he was dissatisfied. Every time Jane smiled at Pelham or spoke to him, he felt a pronounced urge to strike someone.