Seduction In Silk: A Novel of the Malloren World (Malloran) (19 page)

“Does the estate provide enough income to support itself?”

“I devoutly hope so. Ah, Parminter. Good day to you. My dear, this is the estate steward. Parminter, my wife.”

The stocky, gray-haired man bowed. “Welcome to Perriam Manor, ma’am.”

Claris inclined her head, assessing him. He seemed all solid worthiness, but she’d hold judgment. “I look forward to working with you, Mr. Parminter. I also look forward to gaining a thorough understanding of the manor, house, and estate.”

A definite twitch at that, but only to be expected. The sliding glance at Perriam was more worrying. Parminter was checking the husband’s opinion, and perhaps even looking for amused condescension.

“My business will mostly be in Town,” Perriam said, “so my wife will have the responsibility here. As a first action, she wants the ivy stripped from the walls. Will it serve to simply put out a call?”

“As well as anything, sir.”

Parminter didn’t so much as glance at her.

“Do we have ladders?” Claris asked, forcing him to look her way.

“There are three or four in an outbuilding, ma’am.” He looked back to Perriam to ask, “You wish this done immediately, sir? I could ride around and set it going.”

“If you agree, my dear?” Perriam asked.

She gave him credit for including her, but as she agreed to the plan she recognized another reason to get rid of her husband. She’d not be true mistress of Perriam Manor until then.

Once Parminter left, Claris dismissed her husband and explored the ledgers and documents for herself. There were papers here covering centuries, but she studied only the recent ones. She wished she had something with which to compare the figures.

Was ninety-eight pounds a reasonable annual amount for the sale of excess produce from the home farm? Was seventy pounds a year an appropriate salary for Mr. Parminter? He also received sixpence a pound on timber sold from the estate’s woodlands. Was that fair? Was it too much?

Wood seemed to form a good part of the estate’s income, but it varied, with some years having a large felling and others small. Rents from tenant farmers came to nearly five hundred pounds a year, which seemed a huge amount, but she also saw from other entries how much it cost to maintain the house and estate.

Claris rested her tired eyes, remembering Perriam’s discussion with Farmer Barnett. Barnett had been correct in one way, for it seemed Giles Perriam had left most of the management of the manor to others and pocketed the profits. Perriam had been right too, however. Landowning was complex, and anyone who wanted to have the oversight of it would work hard.

The details choked her brain and the amounts of money involved frightened her, but she would be a responsible landowner.

For now, she’d leave further reading until the ivy was cleared to let in more light. Given the one small window, she might need better light even then.

One of her father’s few indulgences had been a branch of candles with a polished reflector to focus the light. That had been left at the rectory, but she could acquire a new one. No, a number of them. There should be one or more in the library, and she’d like one in her bedchamber. Old habits made her bite her lip at such indulgence, but she could afford it now.

She searched drawers until she found writing paper, then laid a sheet on the desk. She found a pen, mended it, dipped it in an inkpot and began a list.

Reflecting candles.

Requested foods from Athena and Ellie.

Riding clothes for the twins.

A valet for the twins.

A tutor for the twins.

She brushed the end of the quill against her lips, wondering where they would take their lessons. They could use the library, but that would prevent others from enjoying it much of the time.

There might be a schoolroom in the unexplored children’s area of the house. She didn’t like the thought of going there, but she couldn’t leave a part of the house untouched forever like a mausoleum.

She must do something about the smothered babes.

She added “schoolroom” to her list and underlined it. That was the most urgent need.

She capped the ink and stood.

What better time than now?

S
he asked the footman for directions to the children’s area of the house but refused his escort. When she stood before the door, she almost felt as if she should knock, but she pressed down the handle and pushed it open. She was braced for it to be stiff, for hinges to squeal, but it opened smoothly.

Perhaps she should have delayed until the ivy had been cleared, for the gloom seemed particularly thick here, but she walked forward into a corridor. No dust. Clearly this area was regularly swept and dusted, as it should be.

She opened a door to her left and found a plain and empty room. It was modest in size but had a fireplace. Perhaps a governess’s room, or a senior maid’s, or an infant nursery, able to be kept warm in the coldest weather.

The next room was similar but without a fireplace. And the next. Had the whole place been stripped of furniture? Why?

“The last child died of a purulent fever.”

She turned to find Perriam behind her.

“Two of them, in fact. A Giles and the daughter, Beatrice. This part of the house was thoroughly cleaned and fumigated, and all that they’d had contact with was burned. As there were no more children, it was left as is.”

“Perhaps that’s why there are no ghosts.”

“Is ghost detection another family skill?” She must have reacted, for he said, “That was a joke, not a taunt, Claris. You have a purpose in coming here?”

“Am I not permitted?”

“My dear thistle,” he murmured. “I merely wondered if I could assist you.”

Impossible to demand that he cease to use meaningless endearments, but each usage was like a jab, or a spark, or something.

“I’m looking for a schoolroom, or somewhere that will serve that purpose.”

“This, I suspect.” He opened a door on the opposite side. “It’s the largest room and has two windows. There are shelves in the alcove, which implies books. You’ll make bedchambers up here for the boys as well?”

“Not unless they wish it. Where should a tutor’s room be?”

“Here. As we have a tabula rasa and no expectation of babies, he could have two good rooms and privacy. You want me to find a suitable tutor?”

“Yes, please. Make it clear that it will be only for a year or so. I want the twins to go to school and make friends as soon as possible.”

“Then there are other things they should learn. You should bring in a dancing master.”

“Dancing?”

“It will be in their future, but such a man would also teach deportment.”

Claris stiffened. “There’s something amiss with their deportment?”

“Not for general use, but I doubt they know the finer styles.”

In some subtle way he adjusted his stance, standing a little taller, head cocked in a certain way. Despite his unruly hair and clothing, he was suddenly grand. Smiling at her oh so slightly, he executed a smoothly elegant bow that involved three full circles of a graceful hand. Then he was himself again.

“I can’t imagine the twins ever doing that.”

“Yet the sort of friends you want them to make will have been trained to it from a young age. In fact . . .”

He was so rarely hesitant that she was alarmed.

“What?”

“With your permission, and in due course, they should visit Town.”

“Why?”

“So I can introduce them to all its wonders, including some places where the grand style is used. You don’t want them to seem country bumpkins.”

She didn’t, but she resented the implication that they were.

“You expect me to send them off to you?”

“You could accompany them.”

“To London?”

“To
Town
. Town is the fashionable part, the court and political part. There is also the City, the oldest part, which is now the heart of commerce. The boys should experience London as a whole, but I was mainly speaking of St. James’s, Westminster, and Mayfair.”

Claris used the mealymouthed escape of “We’ll see.”

That was his world, where she’d be terrified of making mistakes, but she couldn’t let the twins go there without her.

She turned to immediate matters. “I’ll need to order furniture for these rooms.”

“We could see what’s in the attics.”

“I thought you said everything was burned.”

“The infected children were both too young for a schoolroom. Come on,” he said, leading the way out. “Such fun to explore attics! With luck there are things there from centuries ago.”

“Of use now?” she demanded, pursuing the gadfly.

She’d thought of him becoming himself again, but what was his true self?

He led the way down to a door that opened onto a staircase up to the higher floor. She followed him up, feeling rather like a rat following the Piper of Hamelin—without the ability to resist.

“There are probably maids’ rooms up here,” she warned. “Perhaps we should ask Mistress Eavesham. . . .”

He ignored her, opening and shutting doors until he said, “Aha! The accumulation of centuries.”

She followed him into a huge space that seemed to be one end of the house, open to the rafters. There were stacked furniture covered by cloths, wooden chests that could contain treasures, and small items stuck up from open-topped boxes.

“Fishing rods,” he said, touching a cane, “and doubtless poles and perches too. Aha! A bird cage.” He pulled the metal object free. “Would you like a linnet? Or perhaps your grandmother would like a crow.”

“She’s not a witch. She’s not even interested in the herb garden here.”

Claris wasn’t looking at him, however, but at a shape beneath its own white shroud. She removed the cloth and found, as she expected, a cradle.

It was as dark as the oak elsewhere in the house, but beautifully carved with vines and flowers, which were picked out in colored paint and in some places gilded.

He came to hunker down by it. “Thank God this survived the cleansing inferno. It’s old, perhaps as old as the feud.”

“Used through the generations.”

He glanced up at her. “If my father learns about this, he’ll want it for Millicent’s baby. My sister-in-law,” he explained, “expecting her third soon.”

“Do I have to surrender it?”

“Feel free to contest it, but the wiser course would be not to let him know.” He touched it and it rocked. “Though it would be a shame for it to linger unused.”

Was he implying . . . ?

“Perhaps not,” Claris said, “when one considers its recent history.”

He rose. “Don’t blame the cradle. Let’s look for desks or tables suitable for learning.”

Claris carefully replaced the cover before joining in the search. They soon found two desks, plus wooden blocks with letters carved into them, a counting frame, and a globe richly painted to show land and sea.

“Giles’s children never achieved an age for this,” Perriam said, gently turning it. “These things show that there have been happy families here, with children who grew to schoolroom age and then to adulthood.”

Again she wondered if there was a meaning beneath his words. After all, they were married, for life. He might want an heir, and she . . .

She heard a noise outside and hurried to a window. “Is it possible?”

He joined her. “The ivy massacre commences?”

With some effort, he forced open the latticed window so he could lean out. “Yes. Let there be light!”

He stepped back and Claris leaned out to see men climbing ladders, armed with knives and hooks. In moments they were ripping long vines of ivy from the walls and throwing them down. On the ground, women picked them up and tossed them into one of two carts. Other men were hacking at the thick bases of the ivy.

“It looks as if everyone in the area has come to help,” she said.

“Work’s always appreciated, but I’m sure they also want to get a look at the new owners.”

“Objects of curiosity, are we?”

“You in particular. They know me a little. They’ll need refreshment at some point.”

They were standing too close, in contact.

Warm contact.

Claris moved away. “I hope Mistress Wilcock can cope.”

“Ale, bread, and cheese will do. I should go and supervise.”

His eyes were as bright as the twins’ thinking of ponies.

“Or assist?” she said.

He grinned. “You’re coming to know me!”

That was true.

Dangerously true.

Then he spotted something behind her and darted over. “Swords!”

She whirled, alarmed, but saw that the finely detailed medieval swords were toys.

He tossed one to her and she caught the hilt by instinct. It was made of wood and quite light.

“Have at you!” he said, taking a stance and poking the sword toward her.

“Stop it, you madman!”

His eyes were brilliant with laughter. “Defend yourself, wench.”

Claris gripped the hilt and poked her sword at him, but he circled his weapon, driving hers to one side.

“Unfair! You’re trained at this.”

She saw something behind.

Tentatively jabbing at him, she edged around until their positions were reversed. Then she dropped the sword. “I’ll chop off your head, varlet!” she cried and grabbed the battle-axe she’d spotted.

She instantly dropped it with a mighty clatter. “My stars, it’s real!”

He picked it up. “So it is, though not very sharp. Murder of a husband is petit treason, my bloodthirsty wench, so have a care.”

“What is going on up here?” Eavesham came to a shocked halt. “Sir, ma’am, your pardon!”

“No, ours,” said Perriam, unabashed. “We came in search of furniture and were reduced to play. Later I’ll instruct the footman which items to take down to the schoolroom.”

“Very good, sir. Is there anything I can assist with?”

Before she could be ignored again, Claris said, “Please ask Mistress Wilcock to prepare some refreshments for the workers who are clearing the ivy. To serve in a few hours, I mean.”

“She already has it in hand, ma’am, and may I say how pleasant it will be to have the ivy gone.”

“You may. The windows will need a thorough cleaning, but soon we will be able to enjoy sunlight again.”

He bowed and left.

Perriam put the battle-axe away in a corner. “May I abandon you? To ivy I must go.”

“Of course.”

Alone, Claris looked around the room, but she was really surveying herself, aware of changes though not entirely sure what form they took.

She gathered the two swords and fishing poles to give to the twins, but then she changed her mind and pushed them back into the box. The twins would enjoy exploring up here themselves. Under her careful supervision, she thought, shuddering at the axe.

She looked once more at the cradle, strangely tempted to carry it down to her bedchamber. It seemed smothered and abandoned up here, but it had rocked five ill-fated babies and was best left beneath its shroud.