MY MEMORY PROJECT - continued - Chapter Three

ONE FOR SORROW. TWO FOR JOY
Copyright Anita Birt 2010


CHAPTER THREE

"You have allowed her to stay in the house?" Lady Rhadyr frowned across the dining table at her husband. "And you've sent Morgan to fetch her father? Really Gilbert, there are times I fail to understand you." Clearly vexed she waited impatiently for an explanation.
"The girl was starving, my dear. You'd not put a hungry dog out without giving it something to eat." He paused while a footman cleared the table. Another arrived with a selection of small cakes to complete the meal.
"There is no cause for alarm." Her Husband beamed at his indignant wife. "She'll be off in the morning with her father."
"Where will they spend the night?" she queried. Her voice dripped ice. She accepted a dainty cake from the tray passed by the footman.
"In the stable very likely, in one of the loose boxes. There are plenty of blankets, clean straw and the weather is mild. They'll be quite comfortable."
Rob had listened intently to his father's story about the girl. His mother disliked unpleasant conversations at mealtimes and talk of tramps clearly did not sit well with her, but the shabbily dressed stranger, who poached salmon and carried books with her, intrigued him.
"I met her in the courtyard when Morgan brought her in. He set the dogs to guard her. Fearing those two great beasts might attack I remained close by. She whispered to them and within minutes they lay at her feet, docile as lambs."
He sipped some wine. "Though she was dressed as a lad and terrified out of her wits when I approached, there was something odd about her eyes, about the way she looked at me."
Setting his glass on the table, he frowned. "It was as if she knew me."
"What nonsense. How could she possibly know you?" His mother accepted a second cake.
Rob shrugged. He couldn't explain what had happened. It made no sense to him. The girl's eyes were striking, hazel with gold flecks. For the few seconds she'd gazed directly at him, time stilled. Even now he could picture her. The smudges of dirt on her face, tendrils of hair straying from under her cap and her hands clenched tightly around her bundle. She trembled when he touched her.
His sister's voice broke into his thoughts. "What a queer way for a girl to live, disguised as a boy, wandering the roads like a gypsy. Do you believe her story, father, that the landowners had her home burned down? It seems very peculiar to me." A slight smile brightened Marion's pale face.
"She was very well spoken in spite of her Scottish accent and is remarkably well read if I can believe what she told me about her education. When Morgan fetches her father I shall know whether she speaks the truth."
"Decent folk are not driven off their land," Edward announced solemnly like someone with a fund of worldly knowledge. At twenty-four, two years younger than Rob, his devil-may-care ways and lack of interest in the estate irritated the hell out of his brother and father.
"That may be so. However I think we may speak of something other than the girl. Mrs. Jenkins is likely feeding her and her father. I'm sure your mother would appreciate a change of topic."
"You are quite right, Gilbert. I've heard enough about this tiresome young person who may or may not be an unrepentant thief."
Marion turned to her mother. "What about the ball? I must have a new gown. It's a special occasion and I do want to look my best."
With a teasing smile she slipped her arm through Rob's. "You've been away such a long time; a whole year in the Indies. I'm sure Eleanor is delighted to have you back. She's invited me to be a bridesmaid at your wedding."
"Wedding? I've not spoken to Eleanor about a wedding. We're not formally betrothed."
"You've asked her, have you not?" Marion pouted. "I do long to be a bridesmaid."
Edward slapped his thigh and grinned at Rob. "Asked her? I should jolly well hope so. Thank God I'm not heir to the Rhadyr estates or I'd have to marry her and produce scores of children."
Lady Rhadyr's eyes flashed danger signals at her son, and motioned a footman to pull out her chair.
"You are being extremely vulgar, Edward. Rob and Eleanor are admirably suited. It's an excellent match, one we've planned since they were children."
She rose to her feet. "Come along, Marion. I have a surprise. You shall have a new ball gown. I've had patterns and swatches of material sent down from London. They arrived this morning."
The men stood. As they left the room Marion's happy chatter pleased Rob. A severe childhood illness had weakened her right leg. The leg brace and special boot she'd worn as a child had long since been discarded but her limp was the bane of her existence. Shy around eligible young men, she tended to withdraw from male company.
He'd avoided answering her innocent question about his betrothal and future marriage to Eleanor Mainwaring. A year in the Indies visiting the family plantations had distanced him from her, literally and emotionally. Since his return a fortnight ago he'd spent little time with her. Estate business occupied him but he'd not sought her out nor had there been any discussion with his parents about his future.
He and Eleanor were not as admirably suited as his mother believed. She no longer resembled the girl he'd known from childhood but an arranged marriage with Eleanor might be possible. The joining of the Rhadyr and Mainwaring estates had enormous potential as a profitable enterprise. Although fond of Eleanor he had little desire to embark on a loveless marriage.
Rob drained his wine. He'd never asked her to marry him, not in so many words. They'd laughed about it during their young years when they frolicked in the hay stacked high in the barn. He'd never spoken to her father but something seemed to be afoot. Had some formal arrangement been made between his parents and hers while he'd been abroad?
For the Rhadyr name to continue it was his duty to marry and have children. If there was no issue from his loins Edward would inherit the title after his death. Rob shuddered at the thought. Not the thought of dying, the
thought of Edward inheriting, he'd ruin the estate. "Shall we take our port here or in the library?" his father asked and rang the bell for the butler.
"The library," Rob replied. He liked its austere atmosphere and the shelves lined with leather-bound books collected over the years by his father and grandfather. A section was devoted to current publications sent down every six months from Bickers and Bush, London booksellers. The library was the male domain since neither his mother nor sister cared much for reading.
As they crossed the hall Rob listened half-heartedly to Edward's joshing. "I'm glad you're to wed and not me. You and Eleanor have to produce an heir pretty damned quick. She'll be ripe and ready."
He nudged Rob in the ribs. "Did you bed some of those dusky beauties in the Indies? Passion under the palms. Moonlight nights. I'd like to try a few of them. Better than the girl's around here, stiff as boards they are. All want marriage, won't go for a quick tumble. I have to travel to London for that."
Rob didn't rise to the bait about Eleanor. She'd never struck him as ripe and ready. "Why wait for me to marry? Find yourself a plump comely girl and produce dozens of children, no more roistering around London."
Edward's laugh echoed around the hall. "Robert, Lord Colwyn, you are the son and heir. You do your duty and leave me to bounce atop willing London ladies and..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "When you need a night or two away from Eleanor, I'll find a pretty wench to heat your loins."
Their father had walked ahead of them and sat in his favorite chair by the hearth. Although it was mid-summer a small fire burned in the grate to take the chill from the room.
Rob stood with his back to one of the mullioned windows. Edward sprawled on a settle "What can I offer you, milord? Port as usual? Brandy perhaps?"
"Port, James."
The elderly butler poured the dark red port into crystal glasses and passed them around. "Will that be all, milord?"
"Send Morgan along to see me."
"At once, milord." He left as quietly as he had come.
Edward wrinkled his brow. "Why are you sending for Morgan? Not still concerned about the girl are you?"
"Allow me to conduct the affairs of this household, Edward. She wanted the salmon to feed her father. Until I learn otherwise I'm inclined to believe her story. I'll see what Morgan has to say about the man."
He harrumphed. "It's always been my practice to help the poor when I can. Mrs. Jenkins will see they have a good meal and a place to spend the night." He sipped his port.
"She's a pretty little thing. Much too thin though. She's a pretty little thing, hasn't had an easy time of it these past months. She was near to fainting from lack of food."
Rob held up his glass to catch the light from the candles burning in the three-branched candelabrum on the mantel. His thoughts turned to the girl in her ragged clothes, broken boots and big cap tipped over her face to shade it from view.
He twirled the stem of the glass. Why had he not seen through her disguise? Her beautiful eyes were not those of a boy and she was very frightened. Had he been more attentive her distress would have been obvious.
Morgan knocked on the door and opened it. Cap in hand he waited for permission to enter.
Lord Rhadyr leaned back in his chair. "Come in. Tell me about the girl's father. Is he ill?"
"Couldn't find him, milord, not where the girl said." He twisted the cap in his hands.
"Did you conduct a thorough search?" Lord Rhadyr stood and paced in front of the fireplace.
"Yes, milord. Not a sign of the man where she said to look." A ghost of a smile played across Morgan's thin lips.
Rob observed the swarthy, darkly handsome face of the gamekeeper. The man seldom smiled. He'd kept to himself since the death of his wife giving birth to a stillborn child a year ago. Something of a recluse he intruded very little into the life of his employer, only when necessary, like today, when he caught a poacher or reported a fox killing pheasant chicks.
Something was amiss with the man. That afternoon Rob had heard one of the grooms teasing the stable boy. "I seen Morgan take Megan Price to his cottage. You know her, Billy. About your age, has great billowy breasts. A real bounce Morgan will have atop her. How'd you like to ride that one and suck those big tits?"
Megan was but thirteen or fourteen years and Morgan close to thirty. She'd be with child soon if he didn't put a stop to it.
Rob had left the stable to look for Morgan when he caught sight of the shabby figure slumped on the bench. In the aftermath he'd neglected his duty to Megan and her parents, tomorrow he'd deal with the gamekeeper.
"Where is the girl now?" Rob asked.
The question seemed to surprise Morgan. He shuffled his feet on the carpet and cleared his throat. "Mrs. Jenkins says she fed her, let her have a wash and gave her some clothes."
He lowered his brows. "I fear she's made a fool of us. She's nowt but a common thief, milord. A real trickster that one, rigged up like a boy, thought she'd get away with poaching. Like as not it's something she's tried before playing on the kind hearts of gentlemen like yourself."
Angry spots glowed on Lord Rhadyr's cheeks. "Thank you, that will be all."
Edward broke the silence after Morgan left. "I thought as much. You were sorry for the girl. Too bad she turned out to be a conniving little strumpet."
Lord Rhadyr resumed his seat. "All her talk about having a father, fainting at my feet. She played me for a proper fool. She'd stolen those books and pretended they were hers."
Edward refilled his glass. "She probably travels the road with a man and he sent her off to steal some food. Girls like that live rough, take up with any man who'll have them."
A vague suspicion that Morgan was hiding something niggled at the back of Rob's mind. He couldn't put his finger on it. The man seemed uneasy.
"Don't be too hasty," he cautioned. "Perhaps her father walked away." For some reason he wanted to believe her.
"She must still be here. Ring for James. I'll send for Mrs. Jenkins and see what she has to say."
The butler entered quietly. "You rang, milord?"
"Run along and have Mrs. Jenkins come at once."
The thought of James running anywhere amused Rob. Their butler had been on the household staff for twenty years. He had stopped hurrying long ago.
Within minutes Mrs. Jenkins knocked and bustled in. "What is it, milord?"
"How is that young person? Fed and clothed is she? In the stable for the night?"
"Oh dear, no, not in the stable. I fed her, sent her to bathe and found one of the maid's uniforms to fit, even boots and stockings. Her boots were in a shocking state."
The housekeeper shifted from one foot to the other. "I didn't think to put her in the stable, milord, what with the grooms being there and all. I didn't think it right. She was very tired, dead on her feet, so I took her upstairs and put her in one of the maid's rooms. She was very anxious about her father."
"She has no father! Morgan found no trace of him. The girl is a thief and a liar, and you put her to bed upstairs! You must turn her out. Send her away at once. We can't have her sleeping over our heads, she might murder us in our beds."
"Wait." Something about the girl and her story perplexed Rob. He wanted an opportunity to speak with her.
"I think it unwise to send her out tonight. It's pitch dark. She would lose her way. Let her sleep here and send her off in the morning."
"Very well, that might be best." His father turned to the housekeeper. "Can you lock her door?"
"Certainly, milord, I'll see she doesn't stir outside that room until morning."
"Good. Mind you do it yourself and while you're at it, poke your head in and see what's she's doing. If she gives any trouble, fetch her to me and I will deal with her."
Mrs. Jenkins bobbed a curtsy and hurriedly left the room.
Lord Rhadyr waved his hand towards a locked glass case containing his prize collection of rare coins. "Those coins are worth a fortune. One of them would keep a tramp well fed for a year."
"Shall I stand guard outside her door?" Edward lounged lazily to his feet.
Rob had seen him flirting with a newly hired maid. The last thing the family needed was another scandal like the one involving Tessa Phillips, a pantry maid. He was seventeen at the time and randy as a goat. The maid blamed him for her pregnancy. She'd been paid off with a sum of money and dismissed. Rob would not allow his brother to spend the night on the third floor.
He grasped Edward's arm. "Goodnight, father. we'll take a turn outside."
Rob shut the library door. "You are not to go near the girl or the maids. Not tonight. Not ever."
Edward twisted away. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do."
"But I shall." Rob seized his shoulder. "If you can't keep your shaft under control get to London or Newport and find a wench. Is that clear?"
"Clear as a bell. Now let me go."
Rob loosened his grip. He disliked these rows with Edward. His father should be more strict with him. Sometimes he acted like a cock-crazed fool trying to get under the skirts of every girl who flirted with him. A year or two abroad to sow his wild oats might tame him.
He pushed his brother aside and sauntered out on the terrace. Moonlight flooded the gardens and the heady perfume of roses drifted on the warm night air.Absorbed in his thoughts he sat on the balustrade. A nightingale trilled its achingly beautiful song from a nearby tree.
Who was she, this red-haired stranger from Scotland? Shabby, dirty and clearly terrified, she hadn't the look of a tough young poacher.
He tried to clear his mind but the haunting appeal in her eyes disturbed him. He smoothed his hand on the cool marble.
Let her be. She's no concern of his. But. But what? He puzzled over his father's interview with Morgan. If he told the truth, the girl was lying. If not, she was safely locked in a third floor room. No harm would come to her. Perhaps her father had wandered off from where she'd left him. He'd speak with her in the morning, give her a few shillings and be done with it.

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Anita