Martha Schroeder (17 page)

The idea of a return to the constant cold, lumpy porridge and endless, hopeless boredom of the orphanage stilled James’s protests. He looked up at the duke, the source of all things in his life, and saw the answer in his eyes. Slowly James turned away and began the long, lonely walk into exile.

Until this day he had thought that the worst moment in his life.

He shook the memory off. He’d been a child then, with no recourse but to live as the adults around him decreed. That was hardly true now. He was not helpless, and he had no intention of allowing his wife to keep him on the margins of her life. She was not the rich and beautiful Duchess of Kettering, and he would not be treated as if she were. He had done nothing wrong in either instance, and he was not going to be treated as if he should apologize for his mere existence. He was not at fault now any more than he had been then. He realized the truth at last.

Meg was.

He raised his eyes and saw Meg on Princess, headed straight for him.

Chapter Sixteen

He was willing to accept her apology. He owed her that. She probably had not intended to sound as surly and unwelcoming as she had.

He waited, magnanimity at the ready, until she reached him. The wind had whipped color into her cheeks, and her large hazel eyes were bright. The light was behind her, and he could not read her expression.

“I came after you,” she said breathlessly. He nodded graciously. “To give you a chance to apologize.”

James froze. A chance to apologize? Although many of his peers in the service considered it entirely unbecoming for a captain in His Majesty’s Navy to apologize to anyone for anything, he had been ready to admit, after a suitable interval for his wife to grovel, that he might—
might
— have been a wee bit to blame for their quarrel. But this was intolerable!

“Indeed.” He stared down his nose at her. “I had hoped that you had seen the error of your ways and had come to realize that there can be only one commander on any ship.”

Meg’s eyes blazed for a moment; then she had the effrontery to grin at him. “We are in agreement on that. Our difficulty is that we cannot seem to agree on who it should be!”

He stared at her. He must have misunderstood. “There is no difficulty there. I know that you have ruled the roost for years, and that it will be difficult for you to learn to give over the reins, but surely you see that it must be done.”

They stared at each other, anger and stubbornness and pride emanating from both of them in waves. Without speaking, they turned their horses toward the stables.

Meg faced him and said, “What is that growing in the field over there, James?”

He smiled. “I do not know. The duke knew nothing of farming, but the fields were his.”

“No, they were his bailiff’s and his tenants’,” she replied. “You cannot own what you do not understand. Not really. I could tell my father that the fields he had just ridden over would yield only half of what any farmer would have seen instantly they would produce. That was how I kept Hedgemere going—by cheating its owner!”

“And what is growing in that field, Margaret?” He kept his tone carefully neutral.

“Barley. And if you will give me the money to try a new strain, next year we will double the yield.”

“Why should I give you the money? You know nothing of how it is made. By your reasoning, you should study seamanship so you can earn money and the ways of the ‘Change so you can put it to work before you think to spend any.” His eyes blazed down into hers. “I am going to Mattingly Place to see Sir Gerald. If Miss Fairchild is still there, I will tell her you are awaiting her return!”

He wheeled Aladdin around and headed across a meadow toward the road at a brisk canter. He husbanded his anger, using it to keep despair at bay. Had he already ruined whatever chance he’d had to build a bridge to Meg? God knew they were so different that any life for the two of them yoked together as they were would be difficult. Added to the differences of temperament and experience, there was her pride—and his. James could only regret the impulse mat had led him to marry a woman he didn’t know and couldn’t understand.

He looked back only once to see his wife sitting completely still on her horse.

* * * *

“Why must you go back today, Annis?” Gerald asked as he stood beside her in the rose garden at Mattingly Place. “M’mother would love to have you remain here as long as you like. She misses female companionship now that her cousin, Adelaide, is married and gone.”

“You are both very kind, Sir Gerald,” Annis said, as she bent over a cluster of sweet-smelling climbing roses. “But I cannot impose on your hospitality any longer.”

“It has been only one day, you know. That hardly constitutes outstaying your welcome. It will take you at least a week to straighten out her knitting yarns.” He smiled at her, and Annis couldn’t help but smile back. He was such a genuinely kind person, without being in the least weak or vacillating. His affection for his mother was tinged with humor, and he saw the world always with a fine appreciation for the ridiculous. It was not a help that she admired the man she loved. It made being in his presence almost intolerable.

His mother’s voice interrupted Annis’s thoughts. “Gerald, my dear, you’d best come in. I believe Captain Sheridan has come to see you.”

Gerald’s eyebrows lifted as he looked over at his mother, who was just appearing in the doorway. “James is here?”

“So it would seem,” Lady Mattingly said. “It must be something important. I think perhaps you should take him into the library and offer him some of your father’s Madeira.”

“Madeira? You think it’s that serious?” Gerald’s smile could not hide his worry.

“Well, he’s only been married twenty-four hours,” his mother replied. “That would bespeak a certain urgency.”

Gerald hurried past her into the house. Lady Mattingly strolled out and sat on a conveniently placed bench.

“Do sit down, Miss Fairchild.” She patted the seat next to her. “It is entirely too hot to stand about in the sun.”

“Thank you, Lady Mattingly, but I really should pack so that I can return to Hedgemere this afternoon.” Annis cast a worried look at the door. “It is important that I go to Meg. Something must have happened, and I—”

“And you must stay here and let the newlyweds work this out for themselves.” Lady Mattingly smiled but her voice was firm. “They need time alone to get to know each other. Your place is here, with us, and we are delighted to have it so.”

Annis sat down, more troubled than before. “You think that I should not go back? But I’m sure that Meg needs me. Whatever has happened, she can tell me.”

“No, Miss Fairchild, she cannot. A couple’s secrets should remain sacred between them.” Lady Mattingly patted Annis’s hand. “I know you love Meg and will always worry about her and want the best for her, but you cannot fill the same role anymore.”

Annis closed her eyes. Lady Mattingly was right. She herself had known that things had changed irrevocably when she had told Meg she would leave after the wedding. But how could she if Meg was not happy? What had occurred to send the captain over here? Was Meg ill? Did she need Annis’s help?

“I know how hard it is,” Lady Mattingly said. “But you must know I am right. Besides, I have been wanting to speak to you about a proposal I have for you.”

“A proposal, my lady?” Annis tried to force her mind to focus on something other than Meg. It was difficult after so many years, but she looked attentively at Lady Mattingly. “If there is any way I can help you, you know you have only to ask.”

“Very prettily said, my dear, but you may change your mind when you hear what it is.” Lady Mattingly smiled kindly at Annis and said, “I want you to consider staying here permanently. As my companion.”

Annis’s mouth dropped open for a moment. Her surprise was complete. So was her rejection of the idea. She could not stay in the same house with Gerald and hope to retain any peace of mind. It would be intolerable to see him, talk to him every day as his mother’s employee. To watch him as he courted some eligible young lady of birth and fortune. To dwindle into a sterile middle age while he was surrounded by his wife and their children.

Intolerable.

She rose and stood, trying to compose herself, staring blindly at the roses. “No, my lady, I am sorry but I could not. I have planned to return to my home for at least a—a while, and….” Her words trailed to a stop.

“I would not expect you to come here immediately. Of course, you will wish to spend some time with your family. How long has it been since you have seen them?”

“Three years, my lady,” Annis replied in a stifled voice.

“Then you must stay for several months at least. How many of your brothers and sisters are left at home now, my dear?”

How many what? Annis could not concentrate. She had become expert at hiding her emotions, But Meg’s marriage and her own uncertain future had eaten away at the iron discipline she had exercised for so long. Being so close to Gerald had further eroded her control, and now Lady Mattingly’s kindly intended but cruel offer had brought Annis to the breaking point.

“No, no really, my lady,” she managed to say. “It would not answer. Please believe me.”

If Lady Mattingly had thought to pursue the subject, the look on her guest’s face stopped her. It was clear that Miss Fairchild was overset. No doubt worry about Meg’s marriage was the cause.

“I wonder what Gerald is saying to the captain,” Lady Mattingly said, letting the subject drop.

* * * *

“It is wonderful Madeira, is it not?” Gerald said as he raised his glass to James.

“Yes, yes, quite good.” James ran his hand through his already disordered hair and said, “I don’t know why I came here. Except that I couldn’t stay a moment longer at—’

“At home? Why not?” Gerald asked, regretting the question as soon as it was out of his mouth. He had no desire to know what had transpired between his two friends. Not only was it none of his business, he felt responsible for their marriage and did not want to hear of its failure after only a day. He’d considered the marriage a coup and was annoyed that James was already disabusing him of that idea.

“It is not my home,” James said. “It is my wife’s home.”

“Mmm.” Gerald buried his nose in his glass. “Lovely aroma, don’t you think?”

“Lovely,” James put his glass down untasted. “We quarreled. Not married a full day and we quarreled, quite irrevocably.”

“Mmm. M’father laid this down not long before he died.” Gerald held his glass up to the light and studied it.

“I gave her every opportunity to apologize, but she refused. Said she would give
me
an opportunity to apologize.” James’s sense of injury had not abated.

“Mmm. Wonderful judge of wine, m’father.” Gerald took a sip and closed his eyes. “Smooth, isn’t it?”

“Very.” James glared at his glass, then got up and stalked over to the window. He gazed out for a long moment and took a deep breath. “I’m making an ass of myself, aren’t I?” He turned around, but Gerald did not look at him.

“Mmm. M’father favored brandy, but he always had a soft spot for Madeira.”

“Is this what you did in Vienna? Prattled on about inconsequentials until everyone calmed down and you could make some brilliantly sensible suggestion?” James smiled wryly at his host.

“Mmm. Since you’re not going to drink my wine, and you have nothing useful to say about it—or anything else, for that matter—why not go home, old boy. To Hedgemere.” Gerald smiled and took another sip of his father’s Madeira.

“Very sensible,” James said. “But I may as well escort Miss Fairchild home while I’m here. Meg was worried about her for some reason.”

“I think m’mother plans to have her stay here for a while. At least until she’s managed to straighten out m’mother’s knitting wool. Tell Meg not to worry.”

“I suppose I’d better take your advice.”

“Always the best thing to do. I tried to tell Metternich that, but he wasn’t as intelligent as you.”

James grinned ruefully at his friend and left, feeling calmer if much more foolish.

* * * *

“Annis didn’t return with you?” Meg frowned at her husband. He had been gone for hours. Now she was dressed in a simple sea-green gown she and Annis had designed, ready to dine, to converse, to forgive. But her spouse was studying the sherry decanter, his back toward her.

“No. Lady Mattingly wanted her to stay for a few more days and she agreed.” He turned around and faced her. He didn’t look angry or even out of sorts. In fact, it was very difficult to tell just what he was thinking.

Meg decided to ask him. “Are you still angry with me?”

“No, I don’t believe so. Perhaps we could take a walk after dinner and discuss ... barley, since you apparently know a great deal about it. Or perhaps the difference between third-and fourth-class ships of the line—something I know a good bit about.”

Meg flushed. “I am sorry I lost my temper. I said a good deal that I—”

At that moment, whether for good or ill, Meadows came in to announce dinner.

They managed a good imitation of cordial conversation during the meal. Meg told James about what was needed to bring the estate back to its former glory, as during the time her grandfather had owned it and had employed a good, honest man as bailiff. In his turn, James told Meg about the possibilities for making money in government bonds and joint stock companies.

Afterward, they went out by the library door and strolled about the lawn, taking a long overgrown path that led to the small woods. For a while they said nothing, letting the peace of the night and the light of the stars soothe them.

“It is a beautiful evening, isn’t it, James?” Meg said, constraint still in her voice. “What are the evenings like at sea? I’ve never even thought to wonder.”

“Vaster. The sky and the sea are both so enormous that when you can see neither clearly because the sun is down, they seem to merge somehow.” James found to his surprise that he hadn’t thought of the sea for days. It truly seemed to him now as if his time at sea had been another life. “It makes most men feel quite small when they’re free to think about it. That could be why there is always so much to do aboard ship.”