Martha Schroeder (19 page)

If either lady noticed the formality of his address now that he knew he was not alone with his house guest, neither commented on it. “I only lent her to you, Gerald. I did not make you a gift of my companion and friend,” Meg said.

Annis flushed. “I would be happy to remain here, Sir Gerald, and help Lady Mattingly, but if Lady Meg needs me, her claim is stronger.”

Meg was a little hurt at her friend’s lack of enthusiasm. “Well, of course, if you’d rather stay for a while, that’s quite all right with me.”

Gerald and Annis exchanged a look. This time Meg saw what they had tried to disguise. “But no wonder you both are dragging your heels this way. Why, you’re—” she blurted out.

“Is that you, Meg, dear?” Lady Mattingly said as she entered the room, a basket of creamy roses in her hand. She proffered her cheek for a kiss and beamed at Meg. “You’re quite in your best looks, my dear. But why have you left that handsome husband of yours to come chasing over here?”

“She has come to take Miss Fairchild back to Hedgemere, Mother,” Gerald said, his voice even and his face expressionless.

“Yes, Lady Mattingly, I am needed.”

“Why, no, Annis, you must stay if there is anything that Lady Mattingly or Gerald need,” said Meg, seeing a chance to give her friends the time together they clearly wanted. She beamed at the Mattinglys. “It was merely that I wondered what Annis had been doing and if she needed anything from home.”

“I see,” said Lady Mattingly, and Meg wondered if she did. She was certainly no fool, and if Annis and Gerald had been going around smelling of April and May, as they seemed to be doing now, then she must have twigged.

“I had hoped to persuade Annis to stay on here permanently,” Lady Mattingly began.

Annis opened her mouth, but Meg, thinking that Lady Mattingly knew and approved of her son’s interest in Miss Fairchild, rushed into speech ahead of her. “Oh, I don’t think there will be any difficulty about that, Lady Mattingly,” Meg said with a broad smile. “Don’t you agree, Gerald?”

The utter silence that greeted her words told Meg that she had made a grievous mistake. She saw the look of surprise and dawning dismay on Lady Mattingly’s face and the guilt on Annis’s.

It was Gerald who spoke. “No, Meg, I’m afraid it will not be easy to persuade Annis that her place is here.”

“Gerald!” Annis’s voice was anguished. “Please.”

His mother stared at him. “Gerald,” she began, then stopped and cleared her throat. “Meg, my dear, I wouldn’t dream of keeping Miss Fairchild from returning to her employer’s home. I had hoped that she would consent to remain here as my companion, but I see now that it would never do.”

Annis rose. “It will take me only a few minutes to pack. If you will excuse me?” Her pale blue eyes were huge with hopeless tears, but she moved with her usual grace toward the door.

“I will help you,” Meg said, and slipped out after her, leaving Gerald and his mother alone.

“I had intended to tell you, Mama, but not this way.”

“No. Meg never has had the slightest tact, has she?” Lady Mattingly’s fingers began to pluck the petals off a rose.

“You do not approve?” Once a difficult subject was broached, Gerald had found it better tactics to stick to it until it was resolved, rather than retreat into inane politeness.

“I—I must confess the idea never even occurred to me.” Absently, Lady Mattingly brushed rose petals off her lap. “But—” she stopped and took a deep breath. “I would rather discuss this later. I do not want to speak in anger. Please say good-bye to Meg and thank Miss Fairchild for all the help she has given me.”

She rose and started toward the door when it opened and Annis and Meg stepped in.

“Thank you very much for your kind hospitality, Lady Mattingly,” Annis said in her soft voice. “You have made me most welcome.”

Lady Mattingly inclined her head in a regal little bow. “Not at all, Miss Fairchild. It was our pleasure to have you.”

Meg looked around at the frozen faces of the three wax statues that stood stiffly in front of the door. “Oh, dear,” she said. “I feel I must say something. I didn’t mean—

“I think, my dear, the rest of us can agree that you have already said far too much,” Gerald responded, half laughing and half angry. “Perhaps we should take a little time to think before we speak again. I’ll help you into your carriage.” He took Meg’s arm in a firm grip and looked at her in a way that told her more clearly than words that he wished it were her neck he held.

The carriage rolled away down the carefully raked gravel drive while Meg and Annis sat silent and still within. Annis looked carefully out the window, her gaze wide and unblinking.

“I’m so sorry,” Meg said from the depths of her soul. “Annis, please forgive me. I had no idea you and Gerald—

“Sir Gerald and I have spent some time in pleasant conversation and have taken several walks around the grounds while I was there. I do not believe there is anything more to be said on the subject of my visit to Mattingly Place.” Annis’s voice held an implacable note Meg had never heard before. “I will take the stage to my father’s home on Saturday. I do not think I will return.”

“Annis, no! I—”

“Meg, please!”

“Annis—”

“Be quiet. Please.” It was not a request.

Nothing more was said. They arrived home in silence, and in silence Annis left the carriage and walked up to her room.

Meg looked after her, tears in her eyes, cursing her impatient tongue, which had cost her the two dearest friends she would ever have.

Chapter Eighteen

James knew something was wrong by
the time Meg had been in the house ten minutes. Her unnatural quiet and the look of misery and guilt in her huge hazel eyes told him that something devastating had happened at Mattingly Place. He asked no questions, however, knowing he would get no answers until the shock wore off. He decided that the best way to help her was to get her involved in estate business.

So, he masked his concern and took Meg into the book room she used as the estate office. It was a small, shabby room that he had come to hold in great affection. Straightening up the papers and books that had been strewn about the desk and the floor had given the room a comforting resemblance to his cabin aboard
Relentless.

“Now,” he said, “let us go over the books for the past year. I think I can decipher most of your entries, but I’m not sure because some of the addition seems—unorthodox.”

He had hoped to arouse Meg’s interest, perhaps even her grateful appreciation of the improvements he had made. He had not expected the explosion he got.

“What have you done to my office?” Meg demanded, her hands on her hips as she looked around the little room. “How will I ever find anything in all this—this neatness?”

“You will find your papers arranged by subject in these labeled files.” He gestured to a group of files that stood at attention between two bookends. “In which,” he continued, his voice somewhat smug, “they are arranged in chronological order.”

“And my books!” Meg swept on, ignoring his attempt to explain. “Where are my books on soil cultivation? My texts on cattle breeding?”

“In the bookshelves, arranged alphabetically, by author.” He shook his head reprovingly. “Why are you making this unholy fuss? Anyone would think I’ve made your life harder instead of easier!”

Meg was speechless, but her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Now,” he said, “let us sit down and go over these figures.”

As he held out the account book for the year, several small slips of paper drifted to the floor. “Don’t lose those!” Meg said sharply. “I haven’t entered all of them yet.”

“Ah. I wondered why nothing seemed to add up. Let us look at the papers one by one so we can determine—” He glanced over at her. She positively vibrated with anger. But at least the lost, guilty look had been well and truly banished. Meg was back in full force.

“How did a pettifogging, spit-and-polish, by-the-book, unimaginative—
accountant
like you ever become a captain in the British navy?”

James leaned back. If he didn’t know that Meg was upset over something to do with Annis Fairchild, he might have resented her characterization. In fact, he did resent at least part of it.

“Accountant?” His deep voice was tinged with anger.

“No one else would spend time rearranging files and books and adding up figures when he could be out riding about the fields, seeing what needed to be done.”

“What needs to be done is to get a handle on your finances, Meg. How can you know what you have with the kind of records you keep?”

Meg had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “Mr. Quigley sends one of his clerks up every January for a week or so. He straightens them out.” She saw James’s lifted eyebrows and immediately took umbrage. “Mr. Quigley agreed that it was much more important that I do the real work, tending to the farms themselves.”

“Mr. Quigley would agree to set himself on fire if you asked it of him,” James said. “In any case, I don’t think we’ll need to bother him for this reason any more. I am perfectly capable of keeping a simple set of books like yours. That way, we’ll know immediately if too much money is being spent on one thing or another. Next year,” he added with enthusiasm, “we can draw up a budget, so we’ll know in advance what we’re going to spend.”

Meg looked at him with resignation. He was one of those other people. The kind who kept tidy records and tidy houses full of shining floors and chimneys that drew. The kind she wasn’t.

“I’ll make you a proposition,” she said. “I won’t object to your keeping any records you like and filing them any way you like, if you won’t make me have anything to do with them.” She held out her hand.

“Thank you, my dear. I accept. Although I’m sure you’ll want to be around when we draw up our yearly budget.” He carefully shook her hand on the understanding,

“How can you know what you’ll need a year in advance?” Meg complained. “I don’t know how much rain will fall, or how many days of sun we’ll have, or when there will be an outbreak of scarlet fever! Don’t tell me that you had a budget for your ship?”

“Yes, of course, and I had to live within it. We had to provision our ships for months, until we could land at a port where we could restock our supplies. I couldn’t throw up my hands and tell the First Lord that I simply didn’t know how much wind there’d be or when we’d see a storm and to please just give me a few thousands more, on spec.”

Meg’s chin lifted. “Well, you have not married another sailor, sir.”

James’s mood changed in an instant, and he threw back his head and laughed. It changed his entire face, and Meg found herself smiling as he grabbed her around the waist and swung her in a triumphant circle.

“Thank God for that, Miss Meggie!” he said.

Meg buried her face in his neck until James set her down and lifted her chin. She shivered as his calloused forefinger rasped across her skin. “Thank God for that,” he whispered again before he kissed her.

* * * *

After dinner that night, Meg sought out Annis as she was mounting the stairs to her room. She put her hand on her companion’s arm and said, “I think we must talk, Annis.”

“There is really nothing to say.” Annis turned to continue on her way, and Meg climbed at her side. “You did nothing but precipitate what was going to happen anyway. I knew that I had to leave. I’ve known that all along.”

The resignation in Annis’s voice cut Meg to the heart. “Why do you have to leave? Surely you don’t think Gerald has been trifling with you? That is not at all in his style.”

“No,” Annis said, and blushed. “I believe he has a true affection for me. But even so, I must leave.”

“Because—?” Meg prompted.

They had reached Annis’s chamber and entered together. Meg sat down in the small walnut rocker that Annis had rescued from one of the attics and polished to a mellow gleam. Annis took her usual place on the bed, with its simple white coverlet. Here they had discussed many of their knottiest problems and deepest troubles.

“Now, please explain why you must leave in such a hurry and do not intend to return.” Meg fixed Annis with a level glance. “I had thought we were better friends than that you would pack up and leave in two days’ time, without any intention of seeing me ever again! Explain this to me, please.”

“Oh, Meg, my dear, you know it is not because I do not want to see you. It is that I do not want to see Sir Gerald again.”

“But why not? Surely you are not going to try to convince me that you do not love him, because I am very sure you do. I saw the way you looked at him today.”

Annis’s shoulders slumped wearily. “It is the way I have looked at him for these past five years, Meg. You and Lady Mattingly simply did not notice it until today.”

Meg stared. “Five years? You have loved Gerald for five years! And you never told me. Never shared your feelings with me. Nor with him either, I’m sure.”

“Of course not with him. Can you see me running up to him to tell him that I would like him to marry me so I can become a landowner’s wife, or better yet, a great political hostess in London?” She shot an ironic glance at her employer that said as clearly as words that sometimes, married lady or no, Meg could be obtuse. “Do please be sensible for once!”

“But he has told you that he cares for you, hasn’t he? While you’ve been at Mattingly Place, he has asked you to marry him, hasn’t he?”

“He has asked me to become his wife, yes.” Annis’s words had dignity but none of the joy or pride Meg expected.

“Annis, what is wrong, then? Anyone could see that the two of you are in love. I could see it.”

“Yes, Meg,” Annis said with weary resignation, “you told us all what you could see.”

“I am sorry for that, Annis, truly I am if it embarrassed you, I have no idea why you refused him, unless it was because you thought Lady Mattingly wouldn’t approve. But there is no harm done. Or at least no permanent harm. Lady Mattingly had to find out some way, and now she can begin to come to terms with it. Oh, I’m sure that Gerald can make her see how perfect you would be together.” Meg couldn’t help smiling, even though Annis’s face was still sober and clouded with worry. “He’s probably done it already!”