The Heiress (12 page)

“The woman Axia is insane,” Jamie wrote his sister. “But Frances the heiress—” He put down his pen. Frances what?
Loved
her insane cousin? Jamie ran his hand over the scratches on his face, then winced when his thumb touched his sore,
swollen, and blackened eye. No, that girl Axia had some rule over Frances. What could it be? What secret could a nineteen-year-old heiress have that would cause her to do anything rather than have it found out?

And what was between Tode and Axia? Were they lovers?

At that Jamie smashed the end of his quill and had to use his dagger to cut a new point.

It was not his concern what went on between the cousin of the Maidenhall heiress and … whatever capacity Tode occupied in this strange household.

He turned back to his letter.

But Frances the heiress will not allow her cousin to be left behind. I do not believe Frances sees her cousin for the threat she is.

We will be traveling in disguise, with Frances as my wife, and I shall be pretending to be a cloth merchant. Shall I not make a fine one in my new clothes? Axia, the cousin, is very jealous of Frances, so I will need to watch her closely. She is to travel as my sister. No set of traveling players ever had such a farce as this one.

I am sending a girl to you. Her name is Diana, and she is badly marked. Be kind to her as she has been to me.

My love to both of you. May God watch over you.

Your loving brother,

James

“Well,” Joby said. “Do you still believe he is in love with this Axia?”

“He is in love with someone or else he would not be so miserable,” Berengaria answered. “Who is this Diana and how has she been so kind to our brother?”

“The same ways that
all
women are kind to men like our divinely handsome brother,” Joby said sagely.

Reaching out her hand, Berengaria waited until Joby put the letter into it. Jamie always said Berengaria could feel what was not written in a letter. “Yes,” she said, holding the letter, then turning it round and round. “Something is bothering him very much. He is …” Her face lit up. “He is looking for something.”

“Probably lost that little dagger of his,” Joby said, trying to sound flip when truthfully she wanted to ask Berengaria to say more.

Her elder sister was not fooled. “He is looking for someone, but she is hidden.”

When Berengaria said no more, Joby said, “He should try the cellars. What do you think he means that this Diana is badly marked?”

“We shall have to wait and see, will we not?” Berengaria answered, knowing Joby would be her eyes. Still holding the letter, she was frowning. Something was troubling her brother very much.

D
awn was breaking and the inhabitants of the Maidenhall estate were just waking when Axia, yawning, walked into the house. The steward was moving toward the front door.

“Did he give you something to give to a girl named Diana?” she asked, watching the man's eyes.

It was on the man's lips to protest that according to what he'd been told, she was no longer the heiress and therefore need not be obeyed. But when he looked into Axia's eyes, he could see that she was indeed the daughter of a man who was said to know more about business than anyone else on earth. Putting his hand inside his doublet, the steward withdrew the letter and handed it to her.

“There was no little blue cap with the letter?” When he shook his head no, she said, “Then give me the money he left for this Diana.”

He dropped coins into her outstretched hand.

Axia looked at the coins, then looked at the steward. “While I am reading this letter, I suggest that you put the rest of the money in my hand.”

To my dearest sisters Berengaria and Joby,

This is Diana. Take care of her and watch over her. Do not let anyone harm her in any way. She is my gift to you as her spirit is a happy one. I hope she gives you as much joy as she has given me.

With all my love,

James

As she was reading, Axia felt the clink of coins in her hand, and she closed her fist over them as the steward left the house. Clutching the letter and the coins, she climbed the stairs to her bedroom and smiling, she fell across the bed, still wearing her paint-smeared clothes. By her calculations, she could get at least one hour's sleep before what she'd done was discovered. Smiling, she was asleep instantly.

About ten minutes later, shouts woke her.

“Where is she?” she heard shouted from below and knew that sound could only be the unmistakable roar of James Montgomery.

With a one-sided grin, Axia shoved the letter and money into her pocket. Without the least concern for his rage, she fell back asleep.

The door being thrown open woke her. “Axia!” Tode said sternly, but there was also exasperation in his voice.

“Yes, yes,” she murmured sleepily. “I am ready.” Dragging herself off the bed, yawning, she walked past him.

“Why have you done this?” Tode asked, following her down the stairs. “Why are you inciting him? He thinks you are dangerous, that you aim to hurt Frances. Why cannot you—?”

She had reached the bottom of the stairs, and standing there, his face red with anger, was Jamie. At least his face was partially red, red under the three bluish scratch marks along one cheek and a black and purple eye above the other cheek.

“Tried to shave yourself, did you?” she asked calmly as she walked past him and out the front door.

Of course she knew what he was angry about, but then she had merely obeyed him, hadn't she? Last night, all night long, by lantern light, she and a cook's helper, two undergardeners, and the steward's wife had painted one of the wagons that was to be used in their disguise as cloth merchants. She had painted the faces and the outlines, and the boys had filled in the large areas. The steward's wife had painted the letters according to Axia's direction.

Now, standing before the wagon, as was nearly all her household plus the wagon drivers her father had sent and the newly arrived guards from Jamie's relatives, Axia thought it looked good. Oh yes, very good. And from the awed faces of those around the wagon, each of them slowly circling it, she knew they liked it too.

Larger than life size, she had painted Jamie in armor as he slayed a glorious dragon, while looking on in fear, her eyes wide, her foot chained to a post, was Frances. If Jamie did not save her in a minute, she was going to be killed. The dragon's huge green, scaly tail circled around the wagon …

And became the tail of a monstrous lion on the other side. Here again was Jamie, but this time he was wearing very little clothing, only a sort of short leather skirt and a white shirt that hung in rags off his muscular body. Behind him, Frances, completely clothed, struggled against a post where she was tied by her hands.

All in all it was the most extraordinary, most exciting thing most of the people there had ever seen. And Axia's likenesses of Jamie and Frances were remarkable.

“I shall
kill
you, Axia,” Frances screamed when she saw the wagon, then drew back her hand to strike her cousin.

But Jamie caught her arm, and Frances, never missing an opportunity, turned in his arms and “cried” against his chest. Of course Frances would never actually redden her eyes with real tears, but she liked the effect.

Rocking back on her heels, Axia smiled, knowing full well that Frances did not object to having her picture anywhere. What she objected to were the words painted on the wagon.

“See Frances, the most beautiful woman in the world.” “Buy the cloth and see her.” “No sale, no sighting.”

There were words all over the wagon. “See her! Inside! Live!” “See Jamie, the only man on earth beautiful enough to match her.” “Watch them eat. Watch them breathe.”

The people who could read were telling those who couldn't what the words said, and gradually, everyone was turning to look at Jamie and Frances with wonder on their faces.

“You have made me a freak!” Frances said, turning to glare at Axia. “Am I to be put in a cage and the cover lifted when anyone buys so much as an inch of cloth?”

Axia was solemn. “Frances, that face of yours is worth at least a foot of the best linen.”

Again Jamie held Frances back from attacking Axia.

“Cover it!” Jamie ordered. “All of it. Paint over it.”

There was a horrified silence around the wagon. To paint over something as beautiful as this?

“I will
not!”
Axia said indignantly, hands on hips, glaring at him over Frances's head. “This will sell much cloth.”

Jamie spoke through his teeth. “The objective of this journey is not to sell cloth like some—some …” He could not think of a word bad enough. “Some tradesman, but to get her safely to her destination.”

“Tradesman?” Axia said, making it sound as though he thought the word was dirty. “Might I remind you,
Lord
James, that my father—” Catching herself, she said, “Perkin Maidenhall is just that, a
tradesman.”

It was at this point that Thomas stepped forward. “If I may, my lord,” he said.

Jamie, glad for any excuse to get away, thrust Frances toward Tode. “Protect her,” he said, then followed Thomas away from the gawking crowd, which was growing in size by the minute.

“Perhaps I could offer some advice.”

“At this moment I would appreciate advice from the devil. That … girl, that hellion, makes me so I cannot think.”

Thomas cleared his throat. That was obvious to everyone. He'd known Jamie a long time and had always admired his calm under even the most horrible of circumstances. But this young woman seemed able to do what war could not. “The wagon is quite beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Jamie was aghast. “Did you see what she has painted? It is
me.”
He winced as his anger hurt his face, then forced himself to calm. “Thomas, you would not feel the same if it was
your
face up there.”

“My
face would not sell a bag of ashes.”

“And I do not plan to allow my face or Frances's to be used to”—his lip curled with distaste—“sell something. The world will come to an end when the face of a beautiful woman is used to sell merchandise.”

“I leave the end of the world to God,” Thomas said. “However, I know we will be traveling together for weeks, so I beg of you, do not make this girl your enemy more than she already is. Leave the pictures, have her paint out the words. She has been up all night painting, and after all, you did order her to paint the wagon. You did not stipulate how it was to be painted.”

“Must you remind me of my every word?” Jamie started to run his hand over his face, but it hurt too much. “Yes, I can see your point. Tell them what is to be done,” he said, waving his hand. “I still might kill her if I get too near her. Then load the wagons. We leave on the morrow.” Turning,
he looked back and saw that his Montgomery cousins' men were laughing and pointing, and he knew full well that his cousins would be told in detail about this wagon. “Thomas! Have her put clothes on the man with—with …”

“The lion?”

Jamie threw up his hands in disgust and walked away.

“Do you understand me?”

Axia, sitting primly on the chair, tightened her lips as she looked up at him. “Yes, my lord,” she answered, putting as much sarcasm as she could in the statement.

Jamie turned to glare down at her. For thirty minutes he'd been trying to make her understand how serious the forthcoming journey was. He was beginning to fear that she would announce to the world that Frances was the Maidenhall heiress.

He'd had some time to calm down this morning, and while the wagons were being loaded, he'd talked to people on the estate. As far as he could tell, this little Axia was a master of control. No matter what he asked about, from accounts to cross-pollination, the answer was, “Axia does that.” Frances was always Mistress Maidenhall, but Axia was Axia to everyone, old and young alike, from the housekeeper to the pig boys.

And Axia ran everything. It was as though she were steward and grand vizier all in one. And no wonder Frances was afraid of her. Axia had so much control that people were afraid to do anything without her permission. “I daren't without asking Axia,” he heard more than once.

As the day wore on, Jamie wondered how he could have misjudged her so completely. That first day he'd liked the way she looked at him, the way she seemed to say, I am worth something! But now he thought,
No wonder she thought so highly of herself when she had control of the finances of the Maidenhall heiress!

Well, she wasn't going to control him, he vowed as he looked down at her.
“What
do you understand?” he asked.

“That I am not to cause any problems on this journey or you will—What is it you threaten me with? Tying me to a wagon wheel?”

“Not quite. Tying you inside the wagon.”

“Ah yes, I knew it was some violence you planned for a woman half your size.”

Jamie grimaced. Why would she understand nothing? “It is not
me
I fear for but Frances,” he said with exaggerated patience. “You cannot understand how the world sees her.” With some guilt he remembered Joby's pantomime. “Her father's money makes people blind to her as a human. Were anyone to know who she is I would fear for her very life.”

“And of course her life is everything since you plan to marry her money yourself.”

“Why
did I ever think I could trust
you?”
he spat out. “If I had not told you—”

“Then Frances would think your liking of her is
real!”
Axia spat back. “At least now she is warned against you.” Standing, she sneered at him. “You say you hate liars, but you are the worst sort. You lie to all women about love and honor. You attacked me that first day, looking at me as no
man ever has before, yet all the while you were lusting after Frances's gold. Then you take an innocent girl's virginity and—” Startled, she stopped. She had
not
meant to say that, but it was too late now. She buried her clenched fists in her skirt.