Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (15 page)

Perriam produced a bag of small coins and scattered them, especially toward the children.

Always prepared, always appropriate.

She could detest him for it.

Then they were back in the carriage, with Perriam beside Ashart. Her family followed in the carriage that had brought them from the cottage.

“That went off perfectly,” Genova said. “I’m glad the villagers came out to celebrate.” Even she was determined to make a delight out of this.

Claris had thought the worst was over, but when they arrived back at Cheynings, the senior servants were lined up outside the door to cheer them and throw yet more grain and blossoms. She’d have thought that they, at least, would have sensed the truth. Perhaps people preferred mindless tradition to truth.

Once inside, she brushed off petals.

Perriam said, “Allow me.”

His hands brushed across her shoulders and down her back.

She stepped away. “There’s no need.”

“True, the blossoms are pretty on you, wife.”

Gloating over his triumph?

She turned to him. “We know our terms. I trust you’ll keep them.”

“As well you might. Ah, here is your family.”

The twins came over almost shyly, so she drew them in for a hug. “It’s so lovely to see you again.”

“You’re different,” Tom said.

“It’s just trimming. We’re to have a meal here and then we’ll be traveling on to our new home.”

“Perriam Manor,” said Peter.

“Ponies,” said Tom anxiously.

They didn’t truly believe. Hardly surprising. They’d known so many disappointments.

Not this time.

“Ponies,” she agreed. “And a fine home with all we need and more. I promise.”

They relaxed, trusting her completely.

Pray God she never betrayed that trust.

Once relaxed, they began to gawk, especially at the display of weapons on the walls. Thank heavens they were out of reach.

Athena wasn’t gawking. Instead she was surveying Cheynings as if making an inspection. Ellie had Yatta in her arms and was keeping an eye on the boys but seemed equally at ease. Clearly she wasn’t to be a servant here, but what precisely was she?

Athena settled that by introducing Miss Gable to the Asharts as her companion. Ellie went comfortably into the dining room for the celebratory meal. Claris could hardly believe that she’d spent the past year scrubbing, laundering, and cooking.

In all her worries, she’d never thought about the etiquette of cats. Ellie put Yatta on the floor, and Yatta slipped under the table as if trained to it.

The twins were awed by the rich array of food, but that didn’t stop them from eating with relish. Claris kept an eye on them to be sure they didn’t stuff themselves to sickness. She found it hard to eat more than morsels.

When Ashart rose to propose a toast, she was glad the ordeal was nearly over. The speech was brief, elegant, and unspecific. Perriam responded in witty style, delicately avoiding anything that might imply fond togetherness.

Claris thumbed the gold ring that now sat beneath the diamond. Genova had told her to move the diamond there, that the queen had started the fashion. A diamond was the hardest stone and impossible to damage, so placing it above the wedding band guarded and protected the ring and all it symbolized.

Despite cheers, grain, and even vows, all this ring symbolized was a pact to secure an old manor house for the family of the Earl of Hernescroft.

No, it sealed more than that. The marriage brought justice for Aunt Clarrie and a future of comfort and independence for herself, the twins, and even Athena and Ellie, if they wanted it.

She had to fight an unseemly grin.

She’d done it!

She took another sip of wine in a private toast to herself.

C
laris wasn’t aware of having formed an image of Perriam Manor, but she certainly hadn’t expected to pass between monsters to get to it. There was no gate, but two stone pillars each held an odd creature.

“Gryphons,” said Athena. “Head and wings of an eagle and a lion’s body. Said to be especially good at guarding hidden treasure.”

“They’re probably part of the ridiculous feud over the house,” Claris said.

They’d completed the journey in the predicted four hours, she, Athena, and Ellie in one carriage, with Yatta in attendance, the boys and Alice in the other. Perriam had ridden alongside on a fine black horse.

She took comfort from that.

Already he was keeping to their agreement of separation.

By that agreement, she had command of this place.

“I suppose I can get rid of them,” she said.

“Not always wise to get rid of well-established guardians.”

“Those creatures didn’t deflect a curse, nor the tragedies it brought.”

“So you believe in that now, do you?”

“I don’t know, but I could do without gryphons.” As the house came into sight, she inspected it for more monsters. “All that ivy could hide an army of them.”

She supposed she had formed a vague expectation from Perriam’s words, and it had been of a mellow, welcoming place. Instead the carriage was drawing up in front of an ominous mass of dark green ivy, through which she could glimpse only small areas of brick and glints from latticed windows.

Ellie said, “It must be gloomy inside with the windows overhung like that.”

Claris made her first decision. “The ivy will have to go.”

“It’s said to protect against drunkenness,” Athena said.

“Moderation protects against drunkenness, though perhaps this place could drive a Puritan to drink.”

The carriage door opened and her husband came to hand her down. “Welcome to Perriam Manor,” he said, as if the place were heaven.

Claris climbed down. “You didn’t warn me about the ivy. Or the gryphons.”

“It wasn’t in my interests to warn you of anything, but I promise they’re the worst of it.”

He let go of her hand at the first possible moment and turned to assist Athena and Ellie.
He’s as unwilling as you,
she reminded herself.
He’ll be off at any moment, riding on to London.

The twins were scrambling out of the other carriage, taking in everything. They ran over.

Tom said, “Did you see the gryphons, Claris? Tremendously grand! Are there more?”

“I sincerely hope not.” She could almost see the boys twitching with excitement. “You may explore if you wish, but be careful.”

Such a vague command. She had no idea what perils the place might hold.

Perriam arrived at her side. “If you go to the stables, don’t attempt to ride anything. Your word on it?”

They solemnly gave it but, inspired by the word “stables,” raced off around the right side of the house.

“Wrong direction,” Perriam said, “but it won’t do them any harm to have a long run.”

“Thank you for forbidding them the horses. I’d not have thought that they might attempt to ride one.”

“I was a boy once too. There are grooms who might have the sense to stop them, but your brothers are now the young masters of the house.”

“Oh, my heavens! That strikes terror into my heart.”

“Yours to deal with. You’ll also need to decide what to do about the horses. . . . Ah, I see the principal servants have come out to greet you.
En avant.
”

Claris braced for the next challenge but was reassured by the way he spoke.

Yours to deal with.

He was keeping his promise.

Perriam Manor was hers, and that included a number of servants. Even in the rectory they’d had only a cook-housekeeper and a maid of all work.

Perriam introduced a slender middle-aged lady in black as Mistress Eavesham, the housekeeper. An equally thin man, also in black, was Mr. Eavesham, the butler. Both welcomed Claris to Perriam Manor, but in a distant manner.

Here was a problem she hadn’t anticipated. All these servants might know about the feud and the curse and thus the reason for this marriage.

A younger woman in a green striped dress and a white apron and cap was the upper maid, Deborah. She smiled as she curtsied, but Claris thought her sly. A man in his thirties was Charles, the footman. He looked rather grim. The Cheynings footmen had worn livery, but Charles was in plain dress. That must be the difference between the aristocracy and lesser mortals.

There were only two shallow steps up to the large door, which stood open to show a distressingly dark interior—dark wooden floor and dark wooden paneling. She went inside and was excessively relieved to see a white plaster ceiling.

But what a ceiling.

She was gawking but couldn’t help it. The swathes of plaster were thick and occasionally lowered into spikes.

“A Tudor fashion,” Perriam said. “Extraordinary, isn’t it? Too much so to rip down, even if it does feel as if it might sag at any moment and crush all beneath.”

Claris turned to him. “Are you saying I may not have it ripped down?”

“Ah. I did give you the freedom of the place, didn’t I? As you wish, but it’ll make a grand mess, and there’s more like it. Most of the ground floor, in fact.”

Athena and Ellie had entered and the servants were hovering.

Yatta leapt out of Ellie’s arms and scampered off to explore. Claris prayed he wouldn’t get into trouble, but she needed to take command of this situation.

She addressed the housekeeper. “Please take my grandmother, Mistress Mallow, and her companion, Miss Gable, to their rooms.”

“Room,” Athena corrected. “I prefer to have Miss Gable at hand. We will have tea there as soon as may be.”

Claris saw Mistress Eavesham snap to attention. Oh, to have the way of it.

“Do you want tea?” Perriam asked. “Or shall I give you the tour?”

So that was why he was lingering instead of riding on his way. She was tempted to refuse the tour, but she needed one and preferred him to the chilly housekeeper.

“First,” he said, taking her to a door on the left, “the reception room.” This was small, also paneled, and also with a white plaster ceiling, though not quite such an excessive one. “A place to put unexpected visitors, especially those not completely welcome.”

“We had a similar room at the vicarage,” she said, reminding him that she hadn’t always lived in a laborer’s cottage.

He inclined his head in acknowledgment.

“The dining room,” he said, moving back into the hall and into the next room. “There’s a parlor of sorts beyond. As it’s east facing, it can serve as a breakfast room for anyone who chooses not to eat in their bedchamber.”

She’d grown used to breakfast in the cottage kitchen, but in the rectory everyone had breakfasted in their rooms, even though it had been a task for poor Lottie, the maid.

He took her across the hall. “Library, not well stocked, but with another plainish ceiling, you’ll be pleased to see.”

The room had two windows and might be bright once the ivy was removed. The shelves were half-empty, but one slim volume stood on a stand on the long dark table that filled the center of the room.

“There’s an office at the back of the house, but unless you wish to see that now, we can progress upstairs.”

“By all means, upstairs,” she said, keen to have this done.

She’d seen paintings in the dining room and library, and some other items she wanted to inspect, but she’d wait until he’d left. Portraits hung on the walls above the massive wooden staircase. It was as wide as the one at Cheynings, but not so elegant, being hewn out of dark oak. It rose one story in three stages, each with a square landing, and took them to a corridor that seemed to run the width of the house.

Perriam directed her ahead. “The drawing room.”

The room startled her. There was no dark paneling here, but instead pale walls divided into sections by white moldings and decorated with images of urns of flowers.

“Clearly done over not long ago,” Perriam said. “By one of Giles Perriam’s wives.”

She’d forgotten them, but they’d each been mistress here for a while.

Three dead wives and four dead babies.

Perhaps the mournful ivy was deliberate.

She was the start of a new regime, however, and she would assert it.

She went to one of the windows and peered out. “This could be a bright room if the sun could penetrate. I intend to have the ivy stripped as soon as possible.”

She stated it as a challenge, but he said, “An excellent idea. Shall we move on?” He led the way back to the corridor. “The other rooms up here are all bedchambers. This is the mistress’s chamber.” He opened a door. “I’ve had it prepared for you, but if you wish to choose another, you may, of course.”

The room had probably been decorated by the same wife who had decorated the drawing room, for the walls were in the same light, elegant style. It could even be called luxurious. A carpet nearly covered the floor, and the curtains and bed hangings were of a bright, flowered material. It all spoke of good cheer and hope, but here, too, ivy overhung the window.

Claris pushed that thought aside for fear of falling into a morbid depression.

“It’s lovely,” she said.

He went to a door in a side wall. Did she have a dressing room, as Genova had?

“Here, of course, we have the master’s bedchamber.”

Claris went through to find a room in keeping with the darker side of this house. The walls were white above wainscoting, and the bed was of heavy dark oak with crimson hangings. Then she saw some papers on a desk, a book, and a hairbrush.

She turned to him. “You are not staying.”

His brows went up. “Of course I am. This is our wedding night.”

“Oh, no . . .” She backed away.

He raised his hand. “I didn’t mean it in that sense, Claris. But to ride away now would give a very odd appearance.”

“I don’t care about appearances. You
promised
!”

“I promised to give you free rein here and to rarely intrude, but do you truly want to be the subject of gossip and speculation?”

“I don’t care about gossip and speculation!”

“Of course you do. This is your home now. You can make it a bed of thorns or a bed of roses.”

“Roses have thorns,” she pointed out.

He stared and then laughed. “Keen as always. Then let’s say a bed of rose petals. Or even of downy feathers. We need to talk about this. Sit, please, and converse.”

Panic still pounded in her. He could seem so
reasonable
in his unreasonableness. She returned to the mistress’s bedchamber and sat in a chair, straight backed, hands in lap, prepared to fight.

He took the settee, completely at his ease.

She wanted to throw him out for that alone.

“Perhaps I should have explained in detail,” he said, “but as I confessed, it wasn’t in my interests to tell you anything that might deter you.”

“Go on.”

“Cousin Giles explained the situation to me on his deathbed, and there were a number of people present. Some, such as the doctor and vicar, might be discreet, but I’d not stake my life on it. Giles’s valet probably tattled to the other servants here before he left. Thus it must be known that we have married to secure the estate.”

Her nails dug into her palm. “I suspected as much.”

“It’s no great scandal. Practical marriages are common enough and there’s no shame to them. It’s less common for a couple to largely live apart, but it happens, and we have an explanation. You have a strong preference for country living and I am strongly committed to Town.”

She studied him. “There truly are couples who live like that?”

“On my honor. It’s more common later in a marriage, but when a marriage is known to be practical, it won’t cause a furor. However, to separate virtually at the altar . . .”

“. . . would cause talk,” she completed, but warily. Was this was another attempt at manipulation? “What do you propose?”

“To stay for a day or two, that’s all.”

And a night or two, but she didn’t raise that. He had no more interest in the marriage bed than she.

“A day or two only. You promise?”

“On my honor.”

Claris nodded, but she’d be sure of one thing. She rose and went to that adjoining door. She closed it, locked it, and put the key in her pocket.

“That too could cause talk,” he pointed out. “And if I’m bent on mischief, there is another door.”

Claris glared and realized she’d actually growled. “You are the most
infuriating
man!”

“So many say.”

“Perhaps one of them will shoot you. I’d rather like to be a widow.”

“A return to your favorite color.” He rose and came to her. “We have no cause to be enemies over this. We’re allies, and we both have what we want. We can, if we choose, be smug together.”