No Brighter Dream: The Pascal Trilogy - Book 3 (12 page)

It took every ounce of control Nicholas had to keep a straight face. “And you were worried that you might displease him, is that it?”

“How can I not? I am a stranger to his country and his customs. I am bound to make some terrible mistake, and that will be an end to me. My head will be stuck on a pike outside the gates that guard his castle as a warning to all.”

“Good heavens,” Nicholas said. “I would have run away too, if I thought my head might end up on a pike. But where were you planning on running to?”

“I was not sure. I would like to return to my country, where I could wear my
chalvars
and serve my master in every capacity that a servant should.” She shrugged sadly. “But this is no longer possible. I have no money and no place to go, for my master does not want me anymore. So I suppose I must stay here.”

“Well,” Nicholas said, “although I don’t have it in my power to give you back your
chalvars
or your master, I can certainly see to it that you have a decent pair of breeches in which to ride—but only if you agree to wear dresses the rest of the time.”

“But why?” she asked. “They are nasty and uncomfortable.”

“Out of respect for the servants. Unfortunately their sensibilities are easily offended. It’s a constant struggle not to outrage them, but I do my best.”

Ali’s step slowed and she eyed Nicholas with growing suspicion. “Who are you?”

“Why, I’m, um … the great lord,” he said.

Ali stared at him in horror. “
You
are Lord Raven?”

“I’m afraid so, although I’d prefer it if you called me Nicholas. I hope I don’t come as too much of a disappointment.”

“But—but I thought … am I in very bad trouble?” she asked miserably.

“Certainly not. And I hate to disappoint you, but I don’t possess a single executioner. What you saw was an empty suit of armor that belonged to an ancestor of mine. He used it for fighting in battles.” He smiled at her. “Your head is safe.”

“Ah,” Ali said with relief. “Yes, now that I look at you I can see that you do not appear to be a violent man. Perhaps you will lock me in my room with only bread and water for endless days.”

“And if you were locked in your room, how would you keep me company on my morning rides, or help me with the dogs?” he asked reasonably. “No, Ali. The only punishment you will receive is to be forced to spend endless hours in my company, entertaining me.”

“Truly?” Ali asked, her little face lighting up.

“Truly. Now let’s look at the puppies.” He pushed open a door and showed her inside. A soft bark welcomed them along with the mewing of puppies. “This is Beulah,” he said, leading Ali over to a large box. “This is her fourth Utter. What do you think?”

Ali peered inside where five tiny bundles of fur wiggled at their mother’s side. “Oh,” she breathed. “Oh, they are wonderful … look how small and new they are.”

“It’s all right to pick them up if you like. Beulah is very relaxed about her offspring.”

Ali carefully reached into the box and picked up one of the puppies. It had three black spots on its back and one at the base of its tail, and both ears and one side of its face were brown. “Hello, tiny pup,” she said, nuzzling it against her neck as it pressed its nose into her flesh, rooting around. “Oh, you are sweet.”

“That one’s a little girl,” Nicholas said, checking the other pups to be sure all was well.

“I think she is the prettiest of them all,” Ali said, planting a kiss on the minute nose.

“She is pretty,” Nicholas said. “Would you like to have her for your very own?”

Ali’s eyes opened wide. “Really? Do you mean it? Are you sure?”

“Of course I am. There’s no point in being a great lord if one can’t go about handing out largess when one feels like it. She’s yours, although you’ll have to wait another eight weeks or so before you can bring her up to the house.”

“I may take her into the house?”

“You may take her anywhere you please, Ali.”

Ali gently put the puppy back next to her mother. “I shall name her Sherifay,” she announced.

“And a fine name it is,” Nicholas said, scratching Beulah’s ears. “Ali,” he said more seriously, “I understand why you became frightened and ran off. But I want you to know that all Georgia and I wish is for you to be happy and comfortable for as long as you are with us. We only want the best for you. Will you try to believe that?”

Ali lowered her eyes. “That is what Handray said. But he still sent me away.”

“I believe that he sent you away because he wished for you to have a better life than he could give you in Turkey, not because he had tired of you. But never mind that now. I’m very hungry, and you must be also. Georgia is waiting for us at the house. We don’t want her to worry, do we?”

Ali attempted a smile. “No. She was nice to me.”

“Naturally she was. My wife has a heart of gold. Tell me, Ali,” he said, leading her out into the sunshine, “how was life with the Yourooks? Andre said in his letter that you had grown up among them, that they are a pastoral people. I don’t know anything about them, but I would like to learn…”

Ali, forgetting her fears, started in on an enthusiastic description.

“All right, Ali,” Nicholas said from his vantage point on the ballroom steps. “I think that’s enough for today. If you attempt a curtsy one more time I think I’m going to be unable to eat my lunch.”

Ali put her hands on her hips and looked up at him. “You are mean and horrible.”

Nicholas smiled happily. “It’s my job to be mean and horrible. Another month and we’ll safely be able to present you to your relatives, be they the highest royalty in the land.”

Ali slumped into a chair. “I might not
have
any relatives,” she pointed out. “You have not turned up a single one yet, and it has been nearly six months.”

“A slight hiccup in the matter,” Nicholas said reassuringly. “Look at it like this—we have more time to concentrate on your education. Your English is as good as your French now, you can play the piano a little, you’ve learned all sorts of useful things.” He started down the stairs. “When Matthew was home from school at Christmas, he said that he was impressed at how quickly you picked things up. It can only get better from here.”

Ali slumped farther down in her chair, her arms folded across her chest. “I am sure that it was very kind of your grandson to say so, but I am tired of learning useful things. I would like my own tent, my own carpets, and my own cooking utensils. And I would like clothes that I can move comfortably in!” She plucked at her skirts. “These are impossible. Why must I have a huge bundle of useless cloth bunched on my backside which only makes it hard to sit, hard to fit through doors, hard to do anything? How would you feel if you suddenly had your trousers taken away and had to wear this?”

“Very foolish,” Nicholas said agreeably. “But by the grace of God, it’s not something I have to worry about. You, however, do. How in heaven’s name do you think we’re going to make you presentable to your family if we don’t keep working at this? I know you’re tired. I’m tired.”

“You do not have to be tired,” she said, smiling winningly. “You can give it all up right now and leave me in peace.” She stuck her stocking-clad legs out in front of her and wiggled her half boots back and forth. “I will go and live in the stables and look after the horses. No one will ever know I was supposed to be a lady.”

“No one would know you were supposed to be a lady at this particular moment,” he said, fingering his brow as if it pained him. “Ali, we all love you dearly, but you can be a trial.”

“That is what Handray always said.”

“Andre,” he corrected automatically.

“Handray,” she repeated equally automatically. “Not the part about loving me dearly, which he didn’t, just the part about being a trial.” She sighed heavily. “I suppose it is my nature to be difficult.”

She sat up straight, her brow furrowing. “If my family does not like me, do you think they will send me to the workhouse? I heard Billy Mott speaking about this the other day when he was blacking the boots. He said that he was lucky he found a job at Ravenswalk or he would have been sent to the workhouse, where many poor souls breathed their last.”

“No, Ali,” Nicholas said, putting an arm around her shoulders. “I don’t think there is any likelihood of your ending up in the workhouse. But if you wish to make the correct initial impression on your relatives, then we must work a little harder.” He steered her toward the door. “Now why don’t we join Georgia for lunch? She’s bound to be wondering what’s become of us.”

“Do you think I will ever know the correct fork for the quail, and the correct knife for the fish? I am so much better at eating with my fingers.”

“I’ve seen you eat with your fingers. You do it very prettily indeed. The only problem is that other people might not think so.”

“You do not understand. I was not meant for such things. You try and try, you and Georgia, even the servants try to make me like yourselves, but I fear it will never be. I will always be a savage, just as Mrs. Herringer said.”

“It seems to me that you only bring the ghastly Mrs. Herringer up whenever you wish to make us feel sorry for you and wiggle out of your lessons. I’m terribly sorry, but it won’t work. This afternoon we will practice the waltz.”

She groaned.

“Fortification is in order. Let’s eat. And then before your afternoon lesson we will ride, all right? We can take Sherifay with the others today. I think she is finally ready to go the distance.”

Ali grinned. “Let us go!”

But that evening when Ali came down for dinner, she knew something was different, that something had changed. Nicholas and Georgia appeared very solemn, very grave as she entered the library.

“Is something wrong? Has something happened?” she asked, her hand going to her throat in sudden fear. “It is not news of Handray, is it?”

“No, nothing like that,” Nicholas said. “Come, sit here next to us.”

Ali’s face clouded over. This was it, she knew it. She was about to be sent away from the safe haven she had grown to love, despite the tedious lessons. She drew in a deep breath, her blood turning to ice.

“You found my relatives, and I am to leave,” she said, standing very straight. “Very well. I will not make a fuss. But please,” she added in a rush, “may I take little Sherifay with me? You gave her to me as a present, and I think she would be lonely if I left her. She is still very young.”

“There is no need to take Sherifay anywhere, Ali,” Georgia said gently. “Please, sit down.”

Ali, her heart pounding with trepidation, sat opposite them in one of the armchairs. “It is about my relatives?” she asked in a small voice.

“It is,” Georgia said. “You know that Nicholas has been working very hard to find them.”

She nodded.

“You remember that we told you that your mother had no brothers or sisters, and both of her parents died some time ago? Well, we haven’t been able to find any other relations on that side of the family. You see, it turns out that your grandparents came from Italy.”

“Italy?” Ali said, her hand creeping to her mouth. “Is that bad?”

“Why should it be bad?” Nicholas asked. “Italy is a country like any other, although an Italian heritage does explain your dark coloring. In any event, there is no record of what might have happened to anyone else in the original family—it seems that they left Florence some years ago and there is no trace of them.”

Ali licked her bottom lip. “And you told me that the parents of my father are also dead.”

“Yes. That’s right.”

“But what about the sister of my father? You said you were searching for her.”

“Yes, I was searching for her. But you see, I have just had a letter from Canada. Your aunt went there twenty years ago, and although she married, she had no children. Apparently she died last year, and her husband is not receptive to having you live with him.”

“Is it because I am a Turkish savage?” Ali asked unhappily.

“No, Ali,” Georgia said. “It is because he is newly remarried, and his wife has children of her own.”

“Ah,” Ali said. “So there is no one who wants me.” She looked down at her hands. It was as she had expected all along. Just like Hadgi. Just like Handray. Now what would become of her?

Images of the workhouse danced before her eyes.

Nicholas placed the tips of his fingers together, making a steeple out of them. “That’s not true,” he said, fixing her with his gaze. “Georgia and I talked it over, and we thought it would be very nice if you became our ward, so I am going to London to have papers drawn up.”

“What—what does that mean?” Ali asked suspiciously. “Is a ward like a chambermaid?”

Nicholas grinned. “No. It means that you will now be an official part of our family, and as such you must treat us with kindness and affection, as doddering grandparents deserve.”

Ali stared at them in disbelief. Never, ever had she considered this a possibility, despite how many times she had imagined living at Ravenswalk with Georgia and Nicholas forever and ever, never having to brave the rest of cold, cruel England and unkind relatives.

“Would you like that, Ali?” Georgia asked, her eyes merry.

Ali could hardly speak. “I … it was my dream,” she said, blinking away tears. “But I never thought it could come true. Never. Are you sure you want me?”

“Yes, of course we’re sure,” Nicholas said. “Surely you can’t think us so addlepated that we don’t know our own minds? It’s very simple. You will live here until you grow so tired of us that you decide to marry and move elsewhere.”

“Never!” she gasped. “Never will I leave you. No one will wish to marry me anyway, and it is my duty to look after you in your old age.”

“We are already in our old age,” Nicholas said, his eyes crinkling with laughter at the corners. “But as you wish. Just remember when the time comes that we won’t hold you to that particular vow.”

“Then this is wonderful, for all dutiful children must look after their grandparents, and I shall be the most dutiful grandchild of all! Oh—oh, thank you!” She jumped up from her seat and ran to the sofa, throwing her arms around Nicholas, and then hugged Georgia equally hard.