Lynette Vinet - Emerald Trilogy 02 (30 page)

When Allison went to her room to change from her traveling clothes into a gown of black silk, she found a letter on her bureau. Breaking the seal, she realized from the free-flowing handwriting that it was from Daniel.

Dearest Allison,

When you informed me the other day that you intended to search for Paul, I thought you were indeed foolish. A part of me still feels that way because you’re really too good for him, but Paul is my brother, and I love him dearly. I love you, also, and wish for your happiness. If that includes Paul, then so be it. I wish you success with your search. He does love you; I know that now, just as I know the depth of your love for him. That is why I’m presenting you with a present. Call it a belated wedding gift or a welcome home gift. Whatever, I wish the two of you to have it. Once, I told you that every artist wishes to paint a masterpiece. Little did I dream that mine would spring forth so early in
life.
Look in your wardrobe where I placed it for safekeeping.

Allison, I still love you and will bear the sting of your refusal for years to come. One day I hope to find love again, but for the moment, I must comfort myself with what might have been. Yet, I love you and Paul and wish only for your joy. Kiss the babies for me.

With deepest love,

Daniel

 Allison’s eyes misted over as she opened the wardrobe. Inside was a picture frame, covered with a cloth. She picked it up, stood it against the wall, uncovered it, and heaved a huge heart-wrenching sigh. On the canvas was her image, with the Shannon behind her and the misty purple hills rising to touch the azure sky. Apparently this had evolved from one of the quick sketches Daniel had made of her.

Daniel had captured her likeness with remarkable accuracy, the pastel colors emphasizing her delicate beauty. But what interested her most were her own eyes. Deep within them she could see love—the love for her husband. How hard that must have been for Daniel to paint, and she wondered if she was indeed as beautiful as Daniel had portrayed her.

She’d have the portrait hung immediately. Not only was this Daniel’s best work, but she realized she’d never have that same look in her eyes again. Not if she married Howard.

“Come
now,
let’s have the glimmer of a smile. You’ve become terrible company,” Howard chided, cutting into his roast with gusto.

Allison lifted her eyes, her glance darting over a very silent Constance, then resting on Howard. How she detested the idea that soon he’d be master of her home. Even now he had moved his belongings to the east wing without her permission, and she knew she dare not question it or risk her children’s safety.

“Perhaps it’s the company I keep,” she retorted.

“Well, I doubt if I’m any worse than Paul and his bore of a family. I heard the old man was killed like a mad dog.
Serves him right.
He burned Englishmen out of their homes.
Deserved to die like that.”

Allison’s hands tightened around her napkin, the blood rushing her to her face. “How dare you criticize my father-in-law, now that he is
dead.
I shan’t stand for this in my own house!” She stood up, throwing down her napkin and started to leave the room, but the harsh, menacing tone from Howard stopped her.

“Stay and dine with me, Allison, or I will not allow you the privilege of seeing your children tonight.”

“Howard, please!” Constance’s tone was pleading, almost frightened.

“Both of you know what I’m capable of, so if Allison wishes to disobey, she can. However, she must suffer the consequences.”

How long will this go on? Allison asked herself, but knew her suffering had hardly begun. That would happen in two weeks when she married Howard. Then her imprisonment would begin in earnest, and that is how she thought of herself, a prisoner in her own home.

She turned back to him. “And how do you intend to punish me, my lord?
With whips and chains?”

“Not a bad idea. Come back to the table until I dismiss you. I wish to talk to you about our wedding.”

Reluctantly she sat down, eliciting a sigh of relief from Constance. Allison couldn’t understand the change in Constance. She had been so high spirited until Howard crushed her love affair with the captain, so determined and unscrupulous to have her own way. Now, she sat like a docile kitten while her brother manipulated her funds and her forthcoming marriage to Lester Colfax, set to take place within a week’s time. Though Allison much preferred the kinder Constance, she sensed something wasn’t right with the woman.

“I’ve extended personal invitations to everyone of note in the county. I want our neighbors to see us exchange vows, to know that I am master of Fairfax Manor. Constance and Beth Lacey will be your attendants.”

“I don’t wish Beth,” Allison told him. “She is Paul’s sister and I’ll not put her through such a travesty.”

“Precisely why I wish her.
She
was
his sister,” he coldly reminded her. “The dressmaker will arrive on the morrow to begin work on your wedding gown, so please try to put on a more cheerful face. You know what gossips people are. Now you may go and tend to your brats.”

God, she hated him! She rose and left the dining room. If only there was someone she could turn to, someone to help her. But she was alone, and though she thought of fleeing with the twins, she couldn’t. Howard would eventually find her.

“Why are you so quiet?” Howard sipped his liqueur, watching Constance fidget in her chair.

“I was thinking about what a huge bore you’ve become,” she said, a bit of her old spunk surfacing.

“I pity you, my dear, for in one week you shall be the one who is bored. I can’t think of anything duller than to live with Sir Lester for the rest of my days—
or
should I say his days.”

At the mention of her marriage, she shakily stood up and knelt beside his chair. “Please don’t make me marry him, Howard! Release my inheritance so I can leave Ireland. Please!”

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and he realized he had never before seen her cry in earnest. He could always tell when she was acting. After all she had done it many times as a child to win their father over. But now she truly was upset, and this pleased him greatly. All those years when she was the pet, the smart one of the family, came back to him with rancor. He wanted to pay back his sister for the many humiliations and beatings he had been forced to endure for her misconduct when she was the favorite child.

Gently he caressed her cheek, and she rubbed against his hand like a small puppy, hope in her eyes that he would relent.

“Sweet Constance, dear little sister.
Go to hell.”

The words were spoken so softly, so tenderly, that she wasn’t certain she heard them. He got up quickly and withdrew from the room, his huge booming laugh echoing through the vestibule.

She stayed on her knees, unable to stand, and knew that all hope was gone. In one week she’d be married to an old man, forced to be his wife. How could her own brother do this to her? But once her inheritance was turned over to her, she could run away and never look back. She hoped and prayed that would happen before the bedding.
Because if it didn’t, she’d have only her brother to blame, and somehow, someway, she’d make him sorry.

Beth had just finished placing baby Quint in his cradle when the door to her cottage was pushed open. Startled, she turned to find Howard who was dressed in his riding attire, whip in hand, anger on his face.

“You didn’t come for your final fitting, Beth. The seamstress is very put out. So am I.”

She hadn’t spoken to him since the day she lost their baby, but any feelings of love were now dead. She was happily married to Patrick, and looked upon Howard as her brother’s murderer.

Though she knew Allison was marrying him out of fear, she herself held no fear of him, only disgust. “Get out of my house, Howard. I don’t wish to see your filthy face at my door. And tell your seamstress that I don’t choose to be in your wedding.”

“Could it be you still love me, Beth, and hate to think that Allison will soon warm my bed?” Though he said this sarcastically, he hoped it was true. His passion for her had never waned, and noting the way her high, full breasts pushed against her bodice, he knew he must claim her once again as his mistress.

“I detest you!” she spat out. “You killed my brother. I’ll not forget that or forgive that. The authorities should come for you as they did for my father.”

“I can’t decide if you’re more outraged by Paul’s death, or the fact that I’ve bedded many women, including yourself, and every one of you has loved it.”

That struck a nerve, because though she did hate him for murdering her brother, she couldn’t deny that Howard had been a good lover and she had been a willing participant. She waved her hands in the air. “Get away with you!”

Instead of leaving, he entered the kitchen and looked down at the sleeping baby. “What a fine looking
fellow
he is. He’ll grow up strong and healthy, yet I must admit I’m pleased to see he doesn’t resemble your husband. He takes after you with his curly brown hair.” He shifted his weight and trapped her hand in his. “Our baby would have been just as beautiful.”

Beth trembled, because she well knew that look of desire on his face. Many times she had delighted in his passion, had eagerly sought it, but now, it frightened her. Howard was master of the estate for all intents and purposes. All he needed was the marriage ceremony to make it legal. If he wished to carry her into the bedroom and make love to her, no matter how she screamed and pleaded, none of the tenants would come to her aid. They could grumble and curse the new master, but in the end, they would all relent and do as they were bid. There was nowhere else to go.

“That child is long gone,” she whispered, making an attempt to break his hold on her hand. But he held it tighter and drew her towards him.

“We could make another baby, Beth. I want you to have my children.”

“How would Patrick and Allison feel about that, Howard? You don’t want my child. You just want me as your mistress.”

“True! I think of you constantly, dream of you. You can stay married to your paddie if you’re worried about gossip, but I want you to come when I summon you.”

“I’ll not be your whore!”

“If I say so, you will be, but I prefer to think of you as my lover.” Imprisoning her in his arms, his lips came down upon hers in a kiss so hard she thought her neck would break. Then a hand swiftly moved inside her blouse and fondled a breast. “I love to touch you, Beth. Let me have you now. It’s been so long since we were together.”

She squirmed, attempting to break free. “I hate you. Leave me alone!”

“No!” he shouted. “I’ll not have you dictate to me. I want you and I’ll have you now, even if it’s in the bed you share with that stinking paddie.”

The baby’s startled screams coincided with Beth’s as he hauled her off the floor.

“No!” she yelled as he headed towards the bedroom, pinning her straining body against his.

“There’s no use in protesting, Beth. No one will help you.”

Again, she realized this was true, but they had forgotten Patrick. From atop the hill where he was tending sheep, he had watched Howard enter the cottage and knew the man would cause trouble. As Patrick bounded through the doorway, Howard dropped Beth to her feet.

“You bloody weasel,” Patrick rasped. “I’ll kill you.”

“So, the outraged husband appears to defend his wife’s honor. Well, she was mine before yours, paddie, and she’ll be mine again.”

“Only if you kill me first.”

Patrick rose to his full height, fists clenched, and for a second Howard doubted the wisdom of fighting a man twice his size, but he had killed Paul Flannery and more than anything he wanted to belittle Patrick in front of Beth.

“Killing you would spoil my fun. I want you alive so you’ll suffer every time Beth comes to me, as I’ve suffered imagining her in your bed.”

“Let’s fight like men, or are you afraid to land on your aristocratic backside, my lord?”

Despite the potential seriousness of the situation, Beth snickered, wounding Howard’s pride. Bolting towards the door, he lunged into Patrick who momentarily staggered backward and landed outside of the
doorway .

Immediately Patrick straightened himself and aimed a crushing blow to Howard’s midsection. As Howard doubled over, the breath knocked from him, Patrick raised a knee and slammed him squarely in the nose.

Blood spurted over Howard’s face and shirt. Humiliation overwhelmed him as he fell to the ground. By this time a group of tenants had gathered, egging Patrick on to finish the job. Howard knew Patrick would easily beat him, and he watched Patrick clasp and unclasp his fists, fire still in his eyes. But instead of continuing the fight, Patrick pulled Beth to him, enfolding her in his arms.

“‘Tis finished. I can’t fight a man who is weaker than me.”

Beth gazed at Patrick with pure love, while Howard sat on the ground, attempting to still the flow of blood with a kerchief. The peasants’ jeers echoed in his ears, and he knew he couldn’t let it end this way. He couldn’t allow Patrick Lacey to publicly humiliate him, making him appear weak before his tenants and Beth. So, he took the only course of action open to him. Unsteadily he rose to his feet and addressed the group, pointing an index finger at them.

“For many years your families have lived on the estate. Your children live here, and future generations shall be born on this land, land that shall be mine when I marry your mistress.
Whether you care for me or not, I am soon to be your master, and in reality I already am.
I provide your shelter, the small plots where you grow your food, and I’ll continue to employ most of you in the manor unless…” His voice drifted off, giving them pause to think and to question.

They eyed him warily. “All of you no doubt enjoy the sight of your master on his backside, brutalized by one of your own. But as your master I can deprive you of your cottages, your livelihood, even your food.”

Murmurs of discontent and dismay went round the group, and some gazed in hatred or indecision at Patrick for forcing this upon them. At last, Howard felt he had them where he wanted them. Motioning to two of the most robust looking men, he beckoned them forward.

“Patrick Lacey, with his total disregard for authority, must be punished. I’m certain you have loved ones. Suppose one of them displeases him. What’s to keep him from killing a defenseless boy with his bare hands? If he feels free to fight me, your lord, why not kill or maim your son or nephew?”

“Patrick’s not violent!” Beth spoke up.

“Nay, he is a good lad,” Sean Lacey interjected in fear for his son.

“You’re family,” one of the men piped up. “Patrick deserves punishment.”

“Only because Annie Donahue liked him better than you, Greene,” Sean Lacey noted.

Greene moved forward, ready to spring at Sean.

“Enough!” Howard yelled. He didn’t want a brawl as that would undermine his intent. “Patrick Lacey is your problem. He alone will be responsible for your empty bellies and homeless families. I leave Patrick’s punishment to your discretion, lads.” Howard took one last glance at Beth as a few of the hardiest men yanked Patrick away from her. Howard mounted his horse, purposely dropping his riding crop, quite pleased at the turn his visit had taken.

~ ~ ~

The ointment Beth placed on Patrick’s back did little to soothe the ugly red welts inflicted by Anne Donahue’s ex-lover. She’d always remember Patrick tied against a tree as the raised riding crop ripped his flesh. Not once had he cried out in pain, and she was glad he had saved a shred of his honor in front of the neighbors. But she’d never forgive most of them for standing idly by while Patrick was helpless under the lash, all because of Howard’s hatred. And Howard wasn’t even man enough to do the deed himself.

Patrick groaned. “My back hurts something terrible, Beth.”

“I know, but in a few days, you’ll be well again,” she said in a vain attempt to comfort him. She pushed a strand of hair from his eyes. “Shall I light the candles yet? It grows dark outside.”

“Nay, just sit by me awhile. Where’s the baby?”

“Your mother took him. She thought it best to take him while I care for you.”

“I made a fool of myself, lost my people’s respect.”

“Nay. ‘
Twas all Howard’s evil doing.”

After lying quietly for a few minutes, he looked at her and took her hand. “Granger intends to force you to become his mistress. I’m going to be forced to kill him.”

“Such silly talk, Patrick.
Don’t dwell on it any longer. Howard can’t make me do what I don’t want.”

“Aye, Beth, he can. You know you must be in his wedding to Allison, because you dare not refuse now.”

Later, when she pondered Patrick’s warning that Howard could force her at will, she thought,
Nay
, not if I kill him first.