“Here I am, Rose,” Meggie said from behind Hugo. “Thank you for your trouble.”
Hugo turned abruptly, ready to grab Meggie by the arm, throw her in the carriage, and haul down the drive at double time.
His hand paused in midair as he adjusted to yet another shock. He hardly recognized the woman standing before him.
A shapeless black garment enfolded Meggie, its high white collar covering her throat, and an equally shapeless white cap covered her head. Everything of Meggie was covered including her flaxen hair, which no longer fell down her back but was tucked up in a tight bun under the dreadful cap.
She looked like a bloody pilgrim.
“Is something wrong, Lord Hugo?” she asked, not appearing the least disconcerted by his appalled scrutiny.
“Nothing that can’t be fixed,” he said, determining that the very first thing he was going to do after marrying her was to see to a decent wardrobe that uncovered as much of her as possible.
“Is it my dress that meets with your disapproval, my lord?” she asked.
“You look like Sister Agnes,” he said. “What did you do, alter one of her habits?”
Meggie gazed at him serenely, his sarcasm going right over her head. “No, my lord. This is my best Sunday dress.” She raised the shabby carpetbag that she held in one hand and the satchel she held in the other. “In here are the rest of my worldly possessions. I thought I’d save my clean white dress for our wedding.”
Wedding.
The word was enough to jolt him out of his temporary paralysis. Why was he worrying about an ugly black dress when he’d soon have her out of her clothes altogether?
“Indeed,” he said. “What a nice idea. Look, here is my fine carriage and my two pretty white horses to take us away. Are you ready?”
“First we must say goodbye to Sister Agnes who is coming out directly, and I must introduce Hadrian to the horses so that they will not be afraid of him.”
“Introduce? My dear girl, you are not bringing that wolf anywhere near my horses!” he said, ready to throttle her.
“You mustn’t worry, Lord Hugo. Hadrian is very good with other animals. It is only a matter of letting them know they have nothing to fear. Of course I must introduce myself first.”
She handed him her bags and walked over to the carriage before he had a chance to stop her or warn her that his two prize geldings were skittish.
To his great surprise, instead of rolling their eyes and snorting as they usually did when strangers approached, the horses put their heads down and snuffled at the front of Meggie’s hideous dress. Their ears pricked back and forth as she spoke softly to them, stroking their muzzles.
Baffled, Hugo shook his head, then strode over to the curricle and arranged the bags under the seat. He was careful to turn his back only for a moment, but it was a moment too long. When he turned around again, his heart nearly stopped.
The damned wolf was at Meggie’s side, sniffing with great interest at the extremely vulnerable legs of his extremely expensive Thoroughbreds.
What he couldn’t believe was that the horses were sniffing right back, not looking at all perturbed. By all rights they should have bolted in terror.
His hand closed carefully on the reins, just in case his beasts came to their senses.
“Ah, here you are, Lord Hugo, Meggie.” Sister Agnes came up next to him. “I see that Hadrian is already making friends with his new companions. How nice. You will find him a most useful addition to Lyden Hall, for he is excellent at guarding not only the house but also the livestock.” Hugo’s heart sank as she smiled fondly at the wolf. “He has saved us many chicken and sheep from intruders down at our little farm. We shall miss him.”
Hugo smiled weakly. “Is that so, Sister?” he said. “In that case, why don’t you keep him?”
Sister Agnes looked at him in surprise. “Surely Meggie has told you that he belongs to her? I wouldn’t dream of separating them. She’s raised him from a pup.”
Hugo dropped the reins and taking Sister Agnes by the arm, he walked a few paces away with her. “Sister, surely you must—it cannot have escaped your attention—you do
realize
that Meggie’s pet is a wolf?”
“Naturally,” she said, regarding him with even more surprise. “I am not blind, Lord Hugo. He is also a highly intelligent and sweet-natured animal. We are all exceedingly fond of him, but it is to Meggie that he is attached.”
Hugo gave up and tossed Sister Agnes into the same category as the rest of her charges. “I am afraid that is unfortunate, Sister,” he said, loud enough to be sure Meggie would hear. “I cannot possibly allow a wolf to reside at my home.” He looked firmly in Meggie’s direction to show her he meant what he said.
Meggie didn’t reply. She simply met his glance with her usual serene expression, her eyes performing that unnerving trick of looking straight through him. Then she nodded and abandoned the horses and her wolf, walking straight past Hugo to the door of the curricle.
She lifted her skirts and, unaided, hoisted herself inside. Hugo breathed a sigh of relief. Now that she was to be his wife, she had decided to obey him instead of crossing him at every turn.
He turned back to Sister Agnes. “Thank you, Sister, for all you have done. As I said, I will do my best to make Meggie happy. Naturally, I shall write to—“
“Ah, Lord Hugo?” The nun nodded in the direction of the carriage.
Hugo glanced over his shoulder only to see Meggie pulling her carpetbag and then her satchel out from underneath the seat. She straightened and looked at him with absolutely no expression.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. He didn’t have the time or the patience for any more nonsense.
“I am staying with Hadrian, my lord. He is my responsibility, and I will not abandon him, not even for you. I am sorry if I disappoint you, but my mind will not be changed.” She dropped the bags over the side of the carriage and stepped down.
With a surge of panic, Hugo realized that she was completely serious. She was prepared to give up marriage to him for the sake of a mangy wolf. If he had ever needed confirmation that she was completely mad, he had it now.
Pride should have compelled him to leave the ungrateful baggage standing there. He should damned well leap into his curricle and drive back into the land of the sane, with a trail of dust obscuring the whole dreadful place.
But the image of four hundred thousand pounds vanishing into thin air was too much for him—that, and the thought of never having Meggie Bloom gracing his bed. He’d become equally attached to that image as well.
Reluctantly acquiescing, he blew out a sharp breath. “If it means so much to you,” he muttered, the words sticking in his throat, “then bring the blasted animal. However, he will
not
ride in my carriage, and he will
not
sleep in my bed. Do you fully understand me?”
“Sleep in your bed?” Meggie repeated, looking at him as if he was the one with a mental disturbance. “I should think not. As for riding in your carriage, Hadrian would much prefer the exercise and the fun of running alongside.”
She smiled sweetly at him and picked up her bags again. “I think you must love me very much indeed to overcome your fear of animals for my sake.”
“I am not afraid of—oh, never mind!” Hugo cried, grabbing the bags from her and throwing them willy-nilly into the carriage where they landed in an untidy heap. “Just get in, for the love of God!”
Meggie ignored him and turned to Rose. She embraced her fellow inmate who promptly burst into loud sobs. Meggie quickly whispered something into Rose’s ear that instantly turned her sobs into uncontrollable giggles.
Hugo had to turn his head away. They really were too pathetic to watch.
Then Meggie turned to Sister Agnes who, to Hugo’s surprise, had genuine tears in her eyes. “Meggie, child,” she said, sketching the sign of the cross on Meggie’s forehead. “May God go with you and watch over you. May He grant you wisdom in all your endeavors.”
Amen, Hugo thought silently, although it seemed to him the nun was asking for a huge miracle.
“Thank you, my dear friend,” Meggie said. “I thank you for your every kindness over the years, and for your own wisdom. I’ll try to keep your words in my head
and
my heart. I imagine there will be many times that I will need them.” She bowed her head. “God keep you. You will be ever in my thoughts until we meet again.”
“And you in mine, child.” The nun took Meggie’s face between her two old hands and kissed Meggie’s forehead in the same spot that she’d made the cross. “Do your best. It is all God ever expects of us.”
“I will, Sister.” Meggie dropped a curtsy, mightily surprising Hugo that she even knew what one was. Then she moved past him and once again climbed into the curricle before he had a chance to help her inside.
He was going to have to break her of that habit. But since he imagined she’d never been in a curricle before, she couldn’t have known the etiquette involved.
Thinking about it, he realized that she would need to be instructed in myriad points of etiquette. He could only pray that she was capable of learning at least some of these points if he was going to attempt to present her as his wife.
There were, in fact, a lot of habits he was going to have to break her of. Like a stubborn refusal to listen to him. His docile, angelic creature was beginning to appear suspiciously hard-headed. That, coupled with dementia, spelled nothing but trouble.
He quickly took his leave of Sister Agnes, then climbed up next to Meggie and picked up the reins, giving them a subtle shake.
The horses obediently responded, moving forward in a quick walk.
Hugo scowled sourly as the wolf moved along right at their side.
A
s the carriage turned onto the main road and picked up speed, Meggie allowed herself to breathe again. For a bad moment, she’d thought that all was lost. It was odd how frightened she’d been that her bright future was about to be snatched away from her, considering that she’d only
had
a bright future for a matter of two hours.
She hadn’t realized how much it meant to her until she’d taken a stand about Hadrian. Facing the very real possibility that she might disappear back into the depths of the asylum, she would never have tasted freedom—and almost worse, she would never have seen Hugo Montagu again.
Still, a principle was a principle, and she couldn’t have lived with herself if she’d let Hadrian down.
She glanced over the side of the carriage where Hadrian loped. His tongue was hanging out of his mouth, an expression of pure bliss on his face. He
knew
he was free.
Meggie smiled down at him, then sneaked a peek over at Hugo who had been silent from the time that he’d leapt into the carriage. His gaze was focused on the road ahead, his brow slightly drawn. He didn’t appear to be the least bit aware of her presence.
That suited Meggie just fine. It gave her a chance to study his profile with its high-bridged nose and a mouth that was wide and nicely defined.
Her gaze wandered down over the firm line of jaw to where his dark hair curled at his disheveled collar, his neckcloth all askew. She grinned to herself, thinking of poor Hugo as he’d emerged from the solarium. He had looked as if all the hounds of hell had been at his heels.
She knew she shouldn’t be amused, but she couldn’t help herself. He obviously didn’t like confinement any more than he liked animals, and there was something about Hugo in a frantic state that did make her want to laugh. Of course, she supposed that he was accustomed to his freedom and hadn’t taken kindly to having it suspended, even briefly.
They really hadn’t gotten off to the best of starts, considering how she’d treated him in the vegetable garden. She had jumped to conclusions because of not only her own history, but also how she’d been fantasizing about him in the most unsettling and improper way.
Strangely, though, now that he was with her in reality, she found his presence not at all alarming. He wasn’t at all like the man she’d imagined, formidable in his physical power. Not that Hugo wasn’t physically powerful, for he certainly was, all six extremely desirable feet of him. It was just that he didn’t terrify her. Even with all his strength and breadth and height she felt safe, protected.
Indeed, she felt as comfortable at his side as if she’d known him forever, yet she knew him less than she’d ever known anyone. Very peculiar, but everything about her connection with Hugo was peculiar.
“What are you staring at?” he said, turning his head and glaring at her.
“I—I was just familiarizing myself with your face,” she said, coloring. “After all, I am going to be seeing a lot of it”
“Hmm,” he murmured in reply, and looked back at the road.
Meggie frowned. “Lord Hugo, do you think we might have that discussion now? About our marriage? What you expect of me aside from the part about sleeping in your bed?”
His head shot around again. “For God’s sake, Meggie, can you not be a little more delicate?”
“If delicacy is what you want, then you should have picked someone else to marry.” She drew in a deep breath, summoning up her courage. “You came to me with a single-minded purpose, pleading both your love and your desire for me, but you have said nothing about what my role is to be in your life—aside from being your wife, which could mean anything.”
He shot her a sidelong glance that she couldn’t read. “Why do we not take things one day at a time? All I require of you for the moment is to do as I tell you and to speak as little as possible.”
“To speak as little as possible?” Meggie repeated slowly, suddenly feeling uneasy. Maybe he really
did
want a dimwit for a wife. A nice angelic dimwit who warmed his bed and smiled blankly at everything he said.
She winced, knowing that the price of her freedom was to try to be what he expected, but it had all seemed a bit different in the sanitarium. Now that she was actually facing reality, she wasn’t sure it was going to be so easy.
She swallowed hard. “As you say, my lord. Is there anything else?”
“Yes. Stop calling me ‘my lord.’ My name is Hugo to you. Furthermore, so that no annoying questions are asked of us, you are to agree with me when I say that we have been well acquainted for some time.”
Meggie nodded. She could see the sense in that. “You have been visiting the sanitarium the last two months?” she asked.
“No,” he said, looking exasperated. “I do not wish the sanitarium to come into it. We will say that we met in Woodbridge. There is no need to elaborate further. Do you understand me, Meggie?”
“I believe so,” she replied, although she wasn’t sure she did. Why would he want to hide the truth to such a degree? Unless he thought the sanitarium beneath his regard, which did seem odd when his mother was a patroness.
His mother … Meggie sat up very straight as she considered this new problem. “Hugo,” she said, “isn’t your mother going to wonder why we’re lying?”
“My mother?” he asked. “What does my mother have to do with anything?”
“She will surely hear the truth from Sister Agnes, won’t she? They are in close contact, after all.”
Hugo paled. “Damnation,” he snapped. “I hadn’t thought of that. Oh, well—I suppose I’ll have to tell my mother the actual facts, but she’ll keep them to herself if I ask her. After all, she believes in the virtue of true love,” he said absently, as if he’d forgotten Meggie was there. “She never has thought that I have any common sense, so why should she question me? No, I should be safe enough in that regard, and Sister Agnes will always back up my story.”
Meggie thought that for a man who had been felled by true love, Hugo was not showing any signs of it. Indeed, he appeared more aggravated with her than anything else. Maybe he was finally beginning to understand the consequences of his rash action.
“Is it really so important what other people think?” she asked in a small voice, assailed by a fresh wave of doubt.
“Naturally it’s important what other people think,” he said curtly. “Vitally important. You will realize that soon enough. However, people will think what I tell them to think, unless you do or say something to contradict me. I warn you now that if you make any mistakes in that direction, there will be a great deal of trouble for both of us.”
Meggie nodded despondently, only now beginning to see the full scope of consequences herself. “It is not too late to take me back,” she said, fighting back tears of disappointment. “Maybe it would be for the best. I know what I am, and I can only be a trial to you.”
She wiped her eyes on the back of her sleeve.
Hugo glanced over at her, then reached out a hand and covered one of hers. His touch was warm and steadying, all the more so for being unexpected.
“Forgive me. I did not mean to frighten you, only to caution you,” he said, his voice more gentle than she’d ever heard it. “I will do my best to help you adjust, Meggie, and I will try not to put more on your shoulders than you can carry.”
She stared down at his large masculine hand, gulping back a sob. The protectiveness of his touch was almost more than she could bear. It was always she who assumed the role of protector, she who gave tenderness rather than receiving it.
Even Sister Agnes in all her kindness had relied on Meggie to be self-sufficient, to know what needed to be done and to do it without complaining or thinking of her own needs.
She felt an enormous relief that someone was actually willing to look after her—someone who did not expect her to solve everyone’s problems or even to understand them.
Maybe there was a certain beauty in being regarded as a dimwit, after all.
Hugo had previously considered the wide sweep of drive that led up to Lyden Hall beautiful, lined symmetrically by great oak trees on both sides.
He drank in the sight with particular appreciation as he turned from the main road through the great stone gates of the entryway. The last time he had been to Lyden, the trees had still been bare. Now, in full leaf, they lent the approach to the Hall a proper dignity, as if heralding that one was nearing a place of importance.
He hoped that the marginal staff were watching in appreciation as their new master approached in his fancy curricle pulled by his high-stepping Thoroughbreds.
He wished to make exactly the right impression expected of a man of his position. That had been the entire point of purchasing Lyden, after all. He chose to forget about the damned wolf still running alongside, praying that if anyone did see it, they would assume it was a very large hunting dog.
Of course, he didn’t even know if the Misses Mabey had informed the staff as to his wishes, let alone his intended’s arrival.
Anyway, God only knew what the staff would think when they laid eyes on his wife-to-be. Maybe it would be best if they were all in a part of the house that faced toward the sea so that he could smuggle Meggie in and cover her up in bedsheets.
Given the way she looked right now, no one would think Hugo had fallen in love with her charms, let alone believe that she’d come from the local town.
He was certain that the townspeople hadn’t dressed like pilgrims for at least a century, if ever.
Then there was the matter of Meggie’s opening her mouth. He wasn’t worried about her accent. Indeed, it had occurred to him only during the drive that Meggie’s accent was perfectly acceptable, when it should have been more like the accent of that dreadful girl Rose. He could only assume that Meggie had picked up the speech patterns of the more illustrious of the inmates.
For the small favor of decent speech he could only be grateful, for it constituted one less stumbling block to have to contend with.
No, what worried him was what Meggie might actually say when she did open her mouth, before he had a chance to coach her more thoroughly. The trick was clearly to keep her as isolated as possible for as long as possible. He wasn’t sure how long that might be, but he could always pretend that their passion was such that it precluded any public appearances outside of the immediate vicinity of their bedroom.
Hugo grinned to himself. That was not such a bad idea all the way around. He would have no problem spending his time in bed with Miss Meggie Bloom. He could coach her dear deranged mind from the comfort of his pillow, rewarding her with bouts of lovemaking when she got something right and maybe giving her an occasional chocolate if necessary.
Oh, he’d see to it that she got a lot of things right. Yes, he would.
He’d never felt so motivated in all his life.
I can’t. It’s not possible. God has made a terrible mistake. This was meant for someone else. Never for me.
Meggie’s hands gripped both sides of her temples as Hugo’s house came into sight.
She thought she might faint from shock. She’d never seen anything so enormous, so magnificent in her entire life, never even imagined anything like it.
At least five times the size of the asylum, which she’d always considered huge, Lyden Hall commanded a piece of land that looked over a vast lawn to the south, another vast lawn with a river to the north, and an entire forest to the west. More water glimmered to the east and Meggie could only assume that was the sea. Hugo probably owned that, too.
This
was to be her new home?
As Hugo pulled the carriage to a halt Meggie could only soundlessly shake her head back and forth, overwhelmed. She felt numb inside, unable to grasp the enormity of what she had taken on, the enormity of what had been handed to her along with Hugo.
When she’d been packing she’d had comforting visions of a gable-roofed manor by the sea, grand by her standards, where she might have the garden that Hugo had promised her, a small and tidy plot of land to dig up and perhaps expand.
The reality, like Hugo, was beyond understanding, a fantasy gone awry.
She really didn’t know what she was going to do now. Except, in sheer desperation, follow Hugo’s orders and keep very quiet.
Many years before she’d learned the one skill that had allowed her to survive and continue. All she had to do, she told herself firmly as she tried to steady her badly shaking hands, was to apply that skill.
Adaptability was everything.
She would manage. Somehow she would manage.
As Hugo swung down from the carriage, the huge front door of the house abruptly opened and a tiny wizened creature appeared. She hopped up and down, with her enormous arrangement of white hair bouncing with her.
“They’re here! Sister, they’re here!” she cried. “Hellooooo!” She waved her arm wildly at them.
Meggie had no idea who the woman was, but she liked her immediately. She sensed nothing but genuine welcome in her, and something else, something wonderfully carefree and full of the joys of life, as if she’d never known a moment’s constraint.
“Oh, dear,” Hugo said under his voice, offering Meggie his hand. “This might be worse than I thought. She doesn’t look the least bit infirm to me.”
“Infirm?” Meggie said, allowing him to support her as she climbed down. “Stay, Hadrian,” she said, knowing he would obey without question. “Whatever gave you that idea? Don’t you know her, Hugo? She is standing in your doorway, after all.”
“I’ve never met her in my life, but I’ll explain later,” he said. “For now just say how-do-you-do and nothing more.”
Meggie shrugged. “As you wish,” she said, in what was fast becoming a litany. He slipped her arm into the crook of his elbow and led her forward.
“Lord Hugo?” the woman said, an enormous smile on her face as she dashed down the steps toward them. “You have no idea how
thrilling
this moment is—we have been on tenterhooks, anticipating your arrival. I am Ottoline Mabey. You must call me Aunt Ottoline, I think, as we are to be family, and I will call you Hugo. And this is your bride-to-be? Oh, my dear, how charming you are. What is your name, child?”