Joan Wolf (25 page)

“Somebody shot Uncle Stephen,” he said, looking up at me with solemn eyes. “Have you seen him, Mama? Is he all right?”

“I have just come from him, and he is fine, darling. He said I was to tell you that you are a very brave boy.”

“He got shot in the head,” Giles said.

“I know, but the bullet did not go into his head, Giles. The doctor said that he is going to be perfectly fine.”

Giles looked away from me and began to stir his tea, which he always half-filled with sugar. “It was scary, Mama,” he confessed. “Uncle Stephen pushed me down on the ground, and then he lay on top of me. He wouldn’t let me get up for a long time.”

“He was right to be so cautious,” I said. “Whoever was poaching in the woods was stupidly and criminally careless.”

Giles said in a small voice, “You don’t think the person meant to shoot at Uncle Stephen? “

“Of course not!” I said too heartily.

“My goodness, Giles,” Miss Stedham said, “why would anyone want to shoot at your uncle Stephen?”

Giles stirred his tea with intense concentration and refused to look at us. “Do you think that perhaps the person meant to shoot at me? “

An appalled look passed between Miss Stedham and me.

I struggled to keep my voice calm and sensible. “Of course I don’t think that, Giles. Why would anyone want to shoot at you? “

He stared into his well-stirred tea and shrugged.

Silence fell like a pall on the room.

I said briskly, “Uncle Stephen told me he thought it was probably some local who was looking to poach a deer.”

Giles nodded and took a slow, deliberate sip of his heavily sugared tea.

“Would you care for a cup of tea, Lady Weston?” Miss Stedham asked.

“Thank you.” I pulled out one of the old wooden chairs and sat down.

For the rest of the meal, Miss Stedham and I kept up a determinedly bright and cheerful conversation while Giles maintained an unusual silence.

I left the nursery in an uneasy frame of mind. Giles’s behavior had made it painfully clear that he did not think Stephen had been shot by a poacher.

* * * *

My mother and her husband had returned in time for dinner. We had sat down without Stephen or Nell, and naturally their absence had to be explained to the ducal pair.

The duke’s comment was typical. “Poachers should be hung. Transportation is not a strong enough penalty to deter the commission of such a crime. String a few poachers up at the Market Cross, I say. Then you’ll see a lessening of poaching incidents.”

I saw Jasper’s and Jack’s eyes meet across the table. Neither of them needed to say a word to express to each other their mutual opinion of my dear stepfather.

Adam said quietly, “Surely a few grouse are not worth a man’s life, Duke.”

“It’s the principle of the thing,” the duke said. “Let them steal your grouse, and the next thing you know, they’ll want your house, too. Look at what happened to the Frenchies.”

“You didn’t see any signs of who it might have been?” I asked Jasper.

He shook his head. “I regret to say we did not, Annabelle. The heavy rain washed away any signs the intruder might have left.”

My mother said bitterly, “One would think that Stephen might have matured at least slightly during those five years he spent in Jamaica. But no, he is just as troublesome now as he was when he was a boy.”

We all stared at her in stunned surprise.

“Surely, Regina, you can’t think that it was Stephen’s fault he was shot at,” Adam said feebly.

“All I know is that he is upstairs now with a bullet in his head,” my mother returned. “And yesterday the boat he was in sank. These things never happen to anyone else. They only happen to Stephen.” She turned to me. “I do not think you should permit Giles to be alone in Stephen’s company, Annabelle. It appears to be dangerous.”

“What are you implying, Mama?”

“I’m not implying anything, I’m saying it straight out,” my mother returned. “Stephen doesn’t have the common sense of a booby bird, Annabelle! That is why these things happen to him all the time! The boat sank because he didn’t look at it properly. He got shot at because he was tramping around the woods looking for a tree house! Good God.” Mama’s disgust was written all over her lovely face. “When most men go into the woods they have a gun with them and they are looking to be the ones who do the shooting.”

No one could make me as angry as my mother. I said, “If you find the family members who live in my house so unpalatable, Mama, then perhaps you ought to leave.”

There was absolute silence in the dining room. I held my mother’s eyes, and the message in mine was uncompromising. I would not tolerate any disparagement of Stephen.

The duke was amazed to find that someone else could be as rude as he was. “Apologize to your mother this instant, young lady,” he demanded.

My mother said, “I never cease to wonder how I could have given birth to such a stupid child.”

“Annabelle is not stupid.” My eyes swung with surprise to Aunt Fanny’s face. She rarely crossed swords with my mother.

“Annabelle is a fool,” Mama said bitterly, and I knew then for certain that she had noticed the change in me.

Adam said mildly, “Regina, you know that no one has ever been allowed to say anything against Stephen to Annabelle. They are as close as any brother and sister could possibly be. Now, why don’t we stop this silly squabbling and enjoy our dinner?”

Jack and Jasper once more looked at each other across the table, but this time I was not able to interpret the silent message they exchanged.

“You mean well, Adam, but you are as big a fool as my daughter.” My mother stood up. “Come along, Saye. We are leaving.”

The duke was horrified. “I have not finished my meal, Regina!”

I picked up my wineglass and drank off what was left in it. “You don’t have to leave right now, Mama,” I said.

“I wouldn’t dream of remaining for another moment in
your house
if I am not wanted,” my mother said haughtily.

I had known perfectly well when I said it that the phrase “my house” would hit Mama hard.

All the men at the table had struggled to their feet when my mother rose. They stood now in front of their chairs, looking on uncomfortably as my mother and I had it out with each other.

I said, “You are more than welcome to remain, Mama. I only ask that you refrain from making disparaging remarks about my other guests. Surely that is a reasonable request.”

She was really irritated now. She had never considered herself a guest at Weston. “Saye,” she said to her husband in ominous tones.

The duke was still clutching his napkin. “But where are we to go at this hour? “ he asked plaintively.

“To an hotel in Brighton,” my mother said grandly.

“But Regina . .. cannot I at least finish my dinner?”

My mother was merciless. “You can eat when we reach Brighton.”

Aunt Fanny produced a few words begging Mama to change her mind, which Mama ignored. Fanny threw me a beseeching look. I sat like stone and uttered not a word as Mama, followed by her ruffled husband, stalked out of the room.

Silence.

Then all of the men, who were still standing in deference to my mother, turned to look at me. Jack picked up his glass. “A toast to the victor,” he said, his face alight with malicious laughter.

I said irritably, “Oh, sit down, all of you, and finish your dinners.”

“Annabelle dear,” said kind Aunt Fanny, “surely you don’t wish your mother to go off in such a fashion!”

I gestured to my empty wineglass, and one of the footmen emerged from the trancelike state they had all fallen into during the quarrel and came hastily to fill it.

“The choice is hers,” I said, and picked up my wine.

“I cannot believe that you mean such a thing! You have always been such a warmhearted girl.”

“When it suits her, Annabelle can be every bit as calculating and coldhearted as Regina,” Jack said with the same malicious delight in his voice that I had seen in his face.

I threw him an annoyed look over the top of my glass.

“Stop it, Jack,” Jasper said.

“What a shame that Nell wasn’t here to witness Regina’s defeat,” Jack said irrepressibly. “She will be furious when she finds out what she missed.”

I put down my wineglass a little too firmly, and the wine almost sloshed over the top and onto the table. I said, “I will ask you to leave, too, if you don’t stop it, Jack.”

“You can’t ask me to leave,” he replied cheerfully. “You need me to help school your new horses.”

Adam leaped at the possibility of a new topic. “What is this I hear about Sir Matthew starting cubbing season early this year, Annabelle?”

I replied at some length, pointedly ignoring Jack’s attempts to be witty. He could be very annoying when he got into this mood.

By the time dinner was finished, and Aunt Fanny and I had left the dining room so that the men could drink their port, Mama and the duke were gone.

I supposed that I ought to feel guilty about driving my own mother away from my house. I didn’t feel guilty, however.

I felt safe.

* * * *

After we left the men in the dining room, Aunt Fanny and I went upstairs to check on the invalids.

Nell was sitting up in bed, reading a book. She closed it as we came in and returned it to her bedside table.

“How are you feeling, my love?” Aunt Fanny asked solicitously as she laid a practiced hand on Nell’s brow.

“I am fine, Mother,” Nell replied. She looked at me and said apologetically, “I don’t know what came over me, Annabelle. I don’t believe I have ever fainted before in my entire life.”

I went to stand next to Aunt Fanny. The bedside lamp shone on Nell’s short blond curls, which were brushed neatly off her face. Sitting there in bed, in her prim white nightdress, she looked so like the little girl I remembered that I had to smile.

“Well, the news was certainly shocking enough,” I said. “But both Giles and Stephen are going to be fine, Nell.”

“I know. I looked in on Stephen a little while ago and it does seem that he will be all right.”

“You should not be visiting a gentleman in his bedchamber, Nell,” Aunt Fanny said immediately.

“Oh, Mama! Stephen was hardly in a fit enough state to ravish me,” Nell said with exasperation.

I remembered his hungry kiss and thought that Nell had underestimated him.

Aunt Fanny was thoroughly shocked. “Of course Stephen would not ravish you! I never thought such a thing!”

I said, “Nell only means that there was nothing improper with her looking in on Stephen.”

“In her nightdress!”

“She looks very sweet in her nightdress,” I said. “Like a little girl.”

Aunt Fanny’s brow smoothed out.

Nell scowled.

I said, “I am going to look in on Stephen myself. Do you want to come with me, Aunt Fanny?”

“He should be sleeping,” she said.

“If he is, we won’t wake him. I only want to make certain that he is all right.”

“Why is Annabelle allowed to go into Stephen’s room and I’m not?” Nell demanded.

Aunt Fanny looked both surprised and dismayed at her daughter’s belligerence. “This is Annabelle’s house, Nell,” she replied quietly. “And Annabelle is a married lady, not a young girl.”

Nell’s lower lip was stuck out, making her look more than ever like the child she had been. “She isn’t married any longer,” she said.

A chambermaid, carrying a can of fresh water for Nell’s bedside table, opened the door. She stopped on the threshold when she saw us.

“I think it will be best if we ignore that unforgivable remark,” Aunt Fanny said to me. “Perhaps by the morning Nell will have recovered her manners.”

Nell’s cheeks turned pink, and I gave her a sympathetic look. Aunt Fanny’s infrequent reproaches always stung far worse than my mother’s invective ever did. It was because one cared what Aunt Fanny thought, of course, that made the difference.

“Good night, Nell,” I said.

“Good night, Annabelle,” she replied politely. But she wouldn’t look at me.

“You may come in now, Mary,” I said to the maid with the water, and together Aunt Fanny and I walked down the passage to Stephen’s room. I knocked softly on the door, and when there was no response I pushed it open and we peeked in. The room was dark, except for the narrow strip of moonlight that was coming in through the open window.

“Stephen?” I said gently.

No reply.

I went over to stand beside the bed, holding my candle so that I could see him. He was lying on his back, deeply asleep. His hair was tangled, his thin face looked haggard, and he needed a shave. I thought he was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen in my life.

“Poor boy,” Aunt Fanny murmured at my side.

I curbed my impulse to touch him.

“We’ll let him sleep,” I whispered. “It’s the best thing for him, the doctor said.”

The two of us quietly left the room.

“Would you care to take tea with me in my sitting room?” Aunt Fanny surprised me by asking.

I accepted, trying not to look too curious. At the beginning of their stay at the hall, I had given my aunt and uncle two large bedrooms with a connecting door. Aunt Fanny had decided to use one bedroom for sleeping and to turn the other one into a sitting room. I had been happy to have the room furnished for her use; I perfectly understood her need for a retreat of her own.

The two of us retraced our footsteps down the passage, and Aunt Fanny opened the door that came directly after Nell’s. We sat in the comfortable upholstered chairs I had had installed, and she ordered tea.

I chatted lightly about this and that, and after the tea had been poured and the chambermaid had gone, Aunt Fanny brought up what was on her mind.

“I feel that I must apologize for Nell,” she said. “I don’t know what has gotten into her lately, Annabelle. I never had to correct her for rudeness when she was a child!”

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Aunt Fanny,” I said firmly. “Nell is like my little sister, and sisters, you know, are allowed to be frank with each other.”

“Frankness and rudeness are not quite the same thing, my dear Annabelle,” Aunt Fanny said.