Not Always a Saint (20 page)

T
he next few days made an odd sort of honeymoon, but it wasn't unpleasant. Jessie and her very patient new husband walked in the gardens, rode on the estate, and ate marvelous meals. And they talked. Now that she had no secrets left, conversation flowed easily. Daniel had an impressive range of knowledge.

She also came to enjoy his wry, subtle sense of humor. The good doctor was not always as serious as she'd first thought.

Occasionally some touch or scent or image would remind her sharply of the passion they'd shared on their wedding day. She remembered clearly how joyful and satisfied they'd both been, yet the thought of lying with him now made her want to curl in a ball like a hedgehog.

She wondered how many men would have exercised Daniel's restraint. Very few, she suspected. If he'd insisted on claiming his marital rights, she would have cooperated in her wifely duty. But she would have felt invaded and despairing.

Surely this would pass, and she hoped that would happen more quickly than after her marriage to Ivo ended. But for now, she was deeply grateful to Daniel, a man who had seen everything and accepted life's strangeness with tranquility.

He also had a quiet confidence that was immensely appealing. She'd done well when she'd chosen him. She just hoped that his tolerance would enable him to accept all the problems that came with her.

 

 

Jessie was a splendid companion, which was some compensation for the fact that they weren't sharing a bed. Daniel had excellent self-discipline, but he had no desire to torment himself any more than necessary, so on their second night at Milton Manor, Daniel had silently piled spare blankets in front of the fireplace to make up a pallet.

Jessie accepted his action with equally silent gratitude. In the morning, they wordlessly folded the blankets and put them away again. Cooperation without conversation. If the servants knew that they weren't sleeping together, Laurel and Kirkland would know very shortly thereafter, and this was a situation Daniel had no desire to discuss.

The fifth morning dawned to a steady rain, so they retreated to the small library, where they cozily settled down to read in wing chairs set on opposite sides of the fireplace. A small coal fire drove off the autumn chill and damp.

After a couple of hours, Daniel rose to stretch his legs. It was time to visit the adjacent music room, which he'd not seen yet. Pride of place was held by a fine piano, as would be expected in any Kirkland residence.

He sat down and ran some scales. The instrument had a beautiful tone and it was well-tuned, so his fingers slid into a favorite piece by Bach.

Even turned away from the connecting door, he knew when Jessie joined him. She was a warm presence at his back as he finished the piece. When he was done, Jessie clapped her hands. “Lovely! I didn't know you were a musician.”

He glanced up and briefly lost himself in her marvelous eyes. Clear as fine diamonds, yet with depths to drown in....

Shaking off his momentary distraction, he said, “I'm a journeyman pianist, not a real musician like Laurel and Kirkland. I play for pleasure and well enough to accompany dancers or informal singers.” He began to play and sing the wistful, minor key old favorite, “ ‘Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. Remember me to a lass that lives there, For once she was a true love of mine. . . .' ”

His hands stilled as the poignant sadness of the song struck him. Parsley, sage, and Rose, his lovely Rose, lost for all time. Jessie laid a quiet hand on his shoulder, understanding.

Shaking off the sadness, he said, “You must be missing Beth madly. Should we leave tomorrow so we can collect her early?”

“Madly,” Jessie agreed, but to his surprise, she continued. “But the note I got from Mariah this morning said Beth is flourishing, and I'm really enjoying this quiet time with you. Life will become very busy once we leave here.”

Pleased, he said, “As you wish.” He played a series of ringing chords. “I play a lot of hymns, too. There's nothing like music for rousing the spirits.”

He blasted into a thundering rendition of “A Mighty Fortress Is My God” and sang along, his spirits lifting. “ ‘A mighty fortress is our God, a bulwark never failing. . . .' ” Jessie joined in, her alto blending well with his baritone.

When he finished the hymn, Jessie said admiringly, “You're a good pianist, but your singing is outstanding. You have a wonderful deep voice.”

“Useful for dragging a congregation into song,” he said with a smile. “I can play hymns all day long. Raised in a vicar's house, you must know your share.”

“Fewer than you might think. My father considered singing frivolous and too likely to lead to frolicking, and he did
not
approve of frolicking! So he kept the music to a minimum in his services.”

“He still does.” The comment came from behind them, and Daniel rose and turned in one swift motion. Standing in the doorway was his old classmate, Gordon, mud spattered and travel worn.

“Sorry,” Gordon said. “I didn't mean to startle you. When I said I needed to speak to you, your butler sent me to the library, and from there I followed the music.”

“You made good time,” Daniel said. “Jessie, this is Gordon, another old schoolmate of mine. He was at the wedding.”

“Ah, the man who kept my mother from escaping.” Jessie smiled warmly. “I'm glad to meet you properly. Were you traveling nearby and decided to pay a call?”

“Actually, I asked him to do a bit of investigation for me,” Daniel said. “Have you had any success?”

When Gordon glanced at Jessie, Daniel said, “It's all right to speak in front of my wife since this concerns her. Jessie, Gordon does discreet investigations, so I asked him to find your father, dead or alive.”

As Jessie inhaled sharply, Gordon said, “It was easy enough. Mr. Braxton is still vicar of the parish church of St. George in Chillingham.”

Jessie sank onto the piano bench, looking pale. “So my father is still among the living.”

“He appears to be in rude good health,” Gordon replied.

“Certainly rude, I'm sure,” she said dryly. “Has he alienated all his parishioners?”

Gordon hesitated. “He inspires some respect, but little affection.”

Jessie's gaze moved to Daniel. “Why did you ask Mr. Gordon to seek him out?”

“Because it's better to know than not,” Daniel replied.

“I suppose you're right,” she said without enthusiasm.

From Jessie's expression, she had the same thought Daniel did: that her mother was a bigamist. Luckily, the Reverend Braxton was unlikely to ever find out.

“Is there anything remarkable about my father's life that I should know about?” Jessie asked. “Has he acquired a mistress or adopted orphans or started to wear a color other than black?”

“If so, he's been very discreet about it,” Gordon said dryly. “But I believe he's published a theological article or two.”

“He was never a very interesting man.” She rose. “I'm not much of a hostess. Would you care for some refreshment? Or given the weather, would you like to spend the night?”

Gordon chuckled. “I'm not such a fool as to stay with honeymooners. An hour's ride and I'll be home.” He bowed. “A pleasure to meet you properly, Lady Romayne.”

“I'll walk you out,” Daniel said as a thought struck him. After they were away from the music room, he asked, “Do you have time to take on another investigation?”

“I've some time.” Gordon cocked a brow. “What would you like to know?”

What had been the date when “Jane” showed up at the infirmary? Daniel couldn't remember exactly, but it had been early autumn. “About seven years ago at this time of year, a young man called Ivo Trevane was murdered in Bristol. He was a gentleman of some means with a house in the city and an estate in Dorset.”

Gordon pulled a small notebook from inside his coat and jotted down the details with a short pencil. “What in particular would you like to know?”

“Was there a furor when he died? Was his murderer ever found? Did he have family? Anything that might be interesting.”

Gordon tucked the notebook away. “The fellow has to be more interesting than Braxton. I'll see what I can find. Where should I send the information?”

“After we leave here and collect Jessie's daughter, we'll head down to Castle Romayne in Dorset. I have no idea what we'll find.”

“Responsibilities,” Gordon said tersely as they entered the front foyer.

Daniel laughed. “I'm sure you're right. Thanks for finding Mr. Braxton.” He offered his hand. Gordon gave it a firm shake and headed out into the damp day. At least it was no longer raining.

Daniel returned to the library, where Jessie was sitting by the fire and gazing at the flames rather than reading the book in her lap. When he entered, Daniel said, “I hope you don't mind my sending Gordon to look for your father.”

“It's just as well you didn't mention it. The less I think about him, the better.” She smiled ruefully. “The big question now is whether to tell my mother.”

“Don't.” Daniel reclaimed the opposite chair. “She would not want to know.”

Jessie's brows arched. “You have no vicarly qualms about the immorality of my mother's behavior?”

“I was put on this earth to heal, not to judge,” he said dryly. “A good rule of thumb is to consider the benefits of revealing such a truth. In this case, no one would benefit, other than eager gossips who enjoy chewing over the misery of others. Exposing your mother's bigamy would badly damage her family, perhaps shatter it altogether. And for what purpose? She'll never go back to her legal husband, and it's unlikely he'd be willing to take her back. She seems to be a loving wife, mother, and daughter-in-law. Though she's breaking the law of the land, she may not be breaking higher law.”

Jessie nodded slowly. “I like your rule of thumb. I, more than anyone, know why my mother behaved as she has because I also ran away from Cassius Braxton and did what I needed to survive.”

“Would you have committed bigamy like your mother?” Daniel asked.

She frowned, then shook her head. “No, no matter how much I wanted to be with a new man, I could never stand at the altar and live such a great lie. It would be an unforgivable crime against the man standing beside me.”

“I find that reassuring,” he commented.

Her rueful smile returned. “As I said, I haven't left any abandoned husbands along the way. What I'm really wondering is whether I should visit my father.”

It was Daniel's turn to arch his brows. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

“I don't want to, but I think I should.” Her mouth twisted. “I'm my father's daughter after all. ‘Ought' and ‘should' were two of his favorite words. I can't imagine that such a meeting would be pleasant or productive, but now that I've confessed the truth about my first husband, I'm feeling some desire to face the great fears of my past. To be free as I enter this new phase of my life. What do you think?”

“I think meeting him would be wise as a way of clarifying to yourself how far you've come,” Daniel said slowly. “Would you want me to go with you?”

“Oh, please, yes! I don't think I could face him on my own.” She cocked her head to one side. “Can you bear it?”

“He's not my father, so it shouldn't be a great strain. I've dealt with my share of abusive bullies.” He considered. “Shall we go to Ralston Abbey for Beth, then to Chillingham and on to Castle Romayne later? That would be the most efficient route.”

“I don't want Beth anywhere near my father!” Jessie said vehemently. “It will mean more time rattling around in a coach, but I'd rather go to Chillingham first. I can retrieve her on my own if you can't get away.”

“We can go together. We'll go to Chillingham, and since that's close to Romayne, we can visit the castle for a couple of days to get a sense of the place and what is needed there,” Daniel said. “Then we can collect Beth. Luckily, all these places are in the southwest so the travel won't be too bad.”

“That's a good plan. I'll write a note to Mariah to let her know she'll have Beth for a few more days, along with a note to Beth.”

“Can she read?” he asked with interest.

“Only a little, but I draw quick little sketches of things to amuse her.” Jessie's face lit up. “Beth loves to draw and often we'll send sketches back and forth. Today, I'll do the swans we saw in the lake when we took our walk yesterday.”

What a lucky little girl Beth was. Any children Daniel and Jessie might have together would be equally lucky, and have the bonus of Beth as a big sister. “After you write your notes, I'll take them to Martin and ask him to have the carriage ready to go tomorrow morning.”

There was a writing desk in the corner of the library, so Jessie moved to it and used the paper, pen, and ink for her note to Mariah, and a pencil for the note to Beth. After sealing both with wax, she said, “Will you address and frank these for me?”

“This is one part of being a lord I keep forgetting about,” he mused. “I need to examine my conscience on the subject since peers and members of Parliament are supposed to use franking only for official business, though that's constantly abused.”

Jessie looked disappointed. “No franking? I dislike my friends having to pay when they receive letters from me.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of general postal reform. Why should those who are best off have free postage when those who can least afford it must pay? Britain needs some kind of national penny post.” He joined her at the desk and wrote the address in his own hand, which was a requirement for franking, then scrawled ROMAYNE on the upper right corner of the sealed letter.