She Will Rejoice (7 page)

             
“You would be better off preparing yourself, Mrs. Haydn,” the woman’s voice did not rise, but the words carried. “I was not, and look where it got me.”

             
Naomi turned around and looked at her husband’s mother, “You are where you are because of your own decisions, Mrs. Haydn, and not because of another’s actions.”

             
She closed the door behind herself and leaned against it, breathing heavily.

             
“What did she say?” the deep voice startled Naomi into standing upright.

             
“Who are you?”

             
A man about Finn’s height stepped nearer and bowed with a smile, “I beg your pardon for the unorthodox introduction. I am Rowan Haydn, Finn’s brother.”

             
Still too shaken to react quickly, Naomi just frowned at the man.

             
“I suppose you have heard tell of all my faults,” his handsome face lost some of its appeal when the smile dropped off of it.

             
She lifted her chin, “There is a great deal of telling of faults around here, but I have heard little more about you than the fact that you are a widower.”

             
His jaw clenched.

             
“I am sorry for your loss, sir,” she moved to go around him.             

             
He blocked her path, “Where are you going?”

             
“To the breakfast room,” she fisted her hands, “to meet my husband.”

             
He laughed, but the sound was hollow, “But you do not know the way.”

             
She took a step away from him.

             
“I am here to direct you.”

             
She did not believe Finn would send his estranged brother to find her, “Does Finn even know you are here?”

             
He shook his head and extended an elbow, “Let us go give him the good news together, shall we?”

             
Naomi knew she had no choice but to be led by this man, but she refused to take his arm, “Lead on, then.”

             
He laughed again and moved down a long hallway. Naomi hoped the man was not taking her somewhere to kill her as retribution for her husband’s supposed crimes. She did not think this to be the case, but she was pleased to see her husband standing in the passageway ahead of her.

             
“Rowan,” Finn’s voice conveyed his surprise.

             
Rowan nodded.

             
Naomi did not hesitate to move to her husband’s side.

             
“I was showing your wife to the breakfast room.”

             
“I sent Marianne to do that,” Finn’s arm tensed.

             
Rowan brushed past his brother into another room, speaking over his shoulder, “And I assured her I could do the job just as well.”

             
Finn did not immediately follow but turned to his wife, “What happened? What did he say to you?”

             
“Very little,” she whispered back. “I will tell you all later if you wish.”

             
Finn exhaled and nodded, “Are you well?”

             
“Very well, now,” she touched his face.

             
He captured her hand against his cheek, “And my mother was not too harsh?”

             
She frowned, “That is a topic for another time as well.”

             
He was visibly unhappy about her remark, but he did not argue. Finn took her arm and walked into the breakfast room where Rowan was already filling a plate at the sideboard.

“I see Cook
made all my favorites for me,” the younger brother sat down at the foot of the table.

“Had Mrs. Hollingberry known you were coming, that may have been a legitimate supposition, but since none of us were aware of your impending visit, one can only assume she made the food for those who were
expected.”

Rowan lifted a fork of fried potatoes, “Who are these for? Neither you nor mother like them.”

Naomi had just put some on her plate. She caught her husband’s eye and smiled. Finn’s lips twitched in response.

“Mr. Rowan
,” Naomi addressed him as her husband seated her, “what does bring you here? We last heard, you were in the north of England.”

He stopped mid-chew and frowned at her.

She elaborated, “Looking at an investment, I believe.”

Rowan
glanced between Finn and Naomi, “How did you know about that?”

Finn took a bite of his bacon, pointedly ignoring his brother.

“Tessa wrote,” Naomi spared a moment to glare at her husband for his behavior.

Rowan and Finn wore matching expressions of belligerence. Naomi assumed the meal was going to be eaten in silence.

She was right.

She ate as much as she could, given the circumstances, and then rose to leave.

The men stood as she did, but neither spoke.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Why are you here?” Finn didn’t waste time once his wife left the room.

             
“I need to talk to mother.”

             
“She doesn’t have any access to money,” Finn informed him around a bite of an orange.

             
Rowan smirked, “Why’d you get married then?”

             
Finn had no intention of explaining the inheritance situation with his brother, “I love my wife.”

             
“Anyone can with two eyes could see why you’d want her,” Rowan pressed. “But you haven’t been in the habit of marrying.”

             
A fire started in Finn’s gut, “You will speak about my wife with respect,” he rose and stormed from the room to find the woman in question.

             
He wasn’t sure if she could find her way back to her room, so he was about to inquire of a maid when he heard an intriguing sound coming from the music room.

             
He opened the door and looked in. His wife had her eyes closed and was playing a flowing melody, her torso swaying slightly to the music. He closed the door behind himself and went to sit opposite her.

             
When she continued to play, he believed he had entered unnoticed.

             
“Did you and your brother resolve anything by your arguing?” she spoke softly as she played.

             
He startled slightly, “We didn’t argue.”

             
She opened her eyes and speared him with a look.

             
“Maybe just a little,” he rose and went to stand beside her.

             
She finished the piece and dropped her hands to her lap, “What does your brother do, Finn?”

             
He raised his eyebrows, “Do?”

             
“Is an attorney, a sailor? I hope he is not a clergyman.”

             
“No,” Finn cleared his throat, “he would not be a clergyman.”

             
“It is customary for the eldest to inherit the father’s land while all subsequent children must go find their own way in the world,” she reminded him. “How does your brother make his way?”

             
Finn grimaced, “Fortunately, my mother’s father was able to leave his land to whomever he wished. He left a portion of it to his daughter as a dowry. My brother tends that land and takes the income from it.”

             
“That is most convenient for him.”

             
“And for me,” he moved to stand behind her, “as it keeps me from feeling guilty for having been born first.”

             
Naomi’s laugh sounded much like the music she had just been playing.

             
“I did not realize you were so accomplished at this instrument.”

             
She glanced up at him, “I did inform you of the fact while we were still on our wedding trip.”

             
“It was the extent that I misjudged, my dear. I have never heard anyone play so beautifully.”

             
“I thank you, sir. I had a capable tutor, and I enjoyed the practice.”

             
“Do you sing as well?”

             
She nodded, “I can if someone will accompany me, but I am not able to marry the two skills, I fear.”

             
“Perhaps we will have to find someone to play for you so that you might sing as well, then.”

             
She grazed the keys with her fingertip.

             
“Will you play another?” he asked as he took the seat next to hers.

             
She smiled, “Gladly. Have you a suggestion?”

             
He shook his head, “None, but that it be performed by you.”

             
Finn convinced Naomi to play for twenty more minutes, but he could see she was flagging at the end.

             
“Shall we take a walk in the garden? It is snowy outside, but I believe the wind has eased, and you will be able to see the pond, at least, from the back terrace.”

             
“I will ring for a wrap,” she rose and did so.

             
“There is more going on between the two of you than just Alice’s death,” Naomi observed as their shoes crunched across the frozen ground.

             
He pointed across a field, “You can see the stone wall back there. That is the foundation of the old chapel. It burned to the ground about thirty years ago, but my grandfather did not want to rebuild it in the same spot.”

             
“Are you ignoring my question?” she sounded like she was laughing.

             
“I am not ignoring you, Naomi,” he stopped and looked down at her face. “I would simply rather not discuss it.”

             
Her smiled disappeared.

             
“My love,” he picked up her hands and held them fast in his own, “I will discuss things if they affect you, but this does not. My brother has some things that he. . .he disagrees with how things have been handled in the past, and he blames me for them.”

             
Naomi continued to look at him expectantly, as if waiting for the rest of the story, but he had no intention of telling her all his family secrets. It was bad enough she knew about his mother’s drinking and, quite probably, his own history with women. Naomi did not need to know about Rowan’s addictions.

             
“Please, Naomi,” he knew he was begging, but he didn’t care, “I would rather not discuss this.”

             
Her face softened slightly, “Is this going to get worse?”

             
He was not sure to what she referred. Was she talking about his secrecy or Rowan’s problems?

             
“Is what going to get worse?”

             
“Is he going to cause trouble for you?” she spoke with an impatience he had never heard before. “I would prefer to know these things ahead of time, Finn. I do not need to be sheltered from the truth.”

             
“Oh,” he could see her point. “No. He cannot make trouble for me. He has, in the past, but his hands are tied, and Uncle George has taken steps to ensure they remain that way.”

             
Naomi paced away from him, “It is sad, really.”

             
“Rowan?” he could hardly follow her thought path.

             
She nodded, “He lost his wife and then the love and respect of his brother. It seems as though he is struggling in other areas as well.”

             
Finn didn’t bother to stop the laugh from erupting from his lips, “You feel sorry for my brother? You don’t even know him.”

             
She spun back to him, “I know you aren’t perfect either, Mr. Haydn,” she had her fists planted on her hips, “and you are hardly in a position to mock someone for their misfortunes or judge for their sins.”

             
Finn narrowed his eyes at his wife, “What did he tell you?”

             
She shook her head, “He didn’t tell me a thing, but I am certainly aware that your reputation is not spotless.”

             
Finn took another step closer to her; he could feel his heart rate increasing, “Just who told you this?”

             
She did not back down, “That is no more your concern than your argument with your brother is mine, sir.”

             
He couldn’t believe he was hearing this, “It is no concern of mine who is spreading tales about me?”

             
She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and held her in place, “You would rather believe others than me?”

             
She did not answer but shook off his arm and made a swift return to the house.

             
Finn spun back toward the yard with a loud growl. The woman could be infuriating. Why she should want to know what was going on between himself and Rowan was beyond his comprehension. It was all utter madness, and he would rather she did not have to deal with the ugliness of it. He would also prefer she never know his own pettiness in the matter.

             
“Trouble in paradise, big brother?”

              Finn turned back to see Rowan coming toward him, “You’re still here?”

             
“I wanted to talk to mother.”

             
“So why do you not do so?”

             
Rowan stomped his feet to keep them warm, “She is already . . .”

             
Finn needed no further explanation.

             
“I have some pressing matters, Finn,” his brother pushed a little.

             
Finn felt a vein in his temple throb, “Have you?”

             
“It isn’t much – about five hundred pounds.”

             
“And I suppose you haven’t any hope of getting it from your own income?”

             
Rowan huffed loudly, “I can expect only three thousand per annum from that. At present, it is closer to two.”

             
Finn knew his brother was letting the land go to waste, “It was producing near four when Uncle George was managing it.”

             
Rowan’ s volume increased, “And that is all you have to say on the matter?”

             
“What more is there to say, Rowan?” he failed to keep his own temper in check. “You have still another debt you are expecting me to pay. I fail to see how your debts are my responsibility.”

             
“Possibly because I was promised a particular piece of land which now is, instead, in your in possession.”

             
Finn knew he should just turn and walk into the house, but, instead, he gripped the lapels of his brother’s great coat, “I earned that land.”

             
Rowan sneered, “Is that what you call it?”

             
“Drop it, Rowan,” he growled.

             
“Does your wife know you own that land?” the younger brother pushed despite his precarious position.

             
Finn dropped his brother and turned away.

             
“Does she know how you convinced the lovely Widow Shelser to sell that land to you instead of deeding it back to me?”

             
Finn’s blood boiled. Without thought, he turned back to his brother and planted his fist in the younger man’s face.

             
Rowan reeled backward, stumbling over a shrub that had the misfortune of being in the way.

             
“I’ll take care of your debt,” he leaned low and spoke softly, “but don’t come back again.”

             
Finn straightened and pivoted away from his brother. Standing in front of him was the last person he would want as witness to his exhibition.

             
Naomi spoke slowly, enunciating each word, “What did you do, Finn?”

             
He did not have any intention of answering that question, “Go back in the house, Naomi.”

             
“Or what?” she glared at him as she moved to Rowan’s side, “you’ll deliver me a blow as well?”

             
Finn did not mean to snarl at his wife, but the mere suggestion that he would ever strike his wife – that he could strike any woman – incensed him.

             
She started at the noise, but then went back to assisting his brother to his feet.

             
“Thank you,” Rowan spoke softly, “I am fine, Mrs. Haydn,” he looked at the ground as he hurried off. “I am fine.”

             
Rowan’s departure did not immediately precede Naomi’s. Apparently, she had more to say on the subject.

             
She was trembling, but Finn was certain it was anger rather than fear or cold that was causing it.

             
“Perhaps, you would punish me by other methods,” she suggested in a tone Finn neither recognized nor liked.

             
“Of what do you speak, madam?”

             
She drew her cloak closer to herself, “Who is Widow Shelser?”
              Finn’s stomach dropped. He had not had time to wonder how long his wife had been standing and watching. He now knew it was too long.