The Frost Fair (23 page)

“But ye said that she and the lad might—”

“Hush, for heaven's sake! We can't discuss this now,” Isabel hissed impatiently.

“I dinna ken
when
we're to discuss it, if y're to run off tomorra. Dinna ye see, woman, that things are changed? If the lass plans t' return home, it's clear yer matchmakin' scheme didna succeed. Who's t'say
when
she'll wed? If y're too old for scenes, m' dear,
I'm
too old t'be kept waitin' indefinitely.”

“Donald,” Isabel said in a trembling voice, “if you don't stop badgering me, I shall start to w-weep again!”

“And if you two don't tell me what you're talking about,” Meg said threateningly, “I shall start to scream! If I didn't know better, from the way you two are behaving I'd think you were lovers.”

Dr. Fraser broke into a grin. He looked down at Isabel triumphantly. “There, woman, y' see? She guessed!”

Isabel glared at him. “How could she
fail
to guess, with you carrying on like a madman?”

“Good God!” Meg gasped, sinking into a chair. “Do you mean to say it's true? The two of you have fallen in
love?
”

“Aye, lass, that's the gist o' the matter.”

“But … you've been at each other like cat and dog! I can't believe my ears! When did this abrupt about-face take place?”

“There wasna an aboot-face at all!” the doctor exclaimed in surprise. “'Twas love at first sight, is that nae right, m'love?”

“Yes, quite right,” Isabel agreed, nodding at Meg in perfect sincerity.

“At first sight? But you were at each other's throats!”

“Oh, no, dear,” Isabel said firmly, “Donald is speaking the complete truth. I loved him from the first moment I saw him.”

Meg could only gape, awestruck. “B-But you said … you s-said he was detest … detest …” A little laugh gurgled up from her throat. “At … at first s-sight—?” The little laugh was followed by a bigger one and then by a third, and before she could stop herself she'd doubled over, convulsed with laughter. Isabel watched her for a moment, nonplussed, and then began, herself, to giggle. Dr. Fraser let loose with a booming guffaw, and soon the three were howling uncontrollably, Isabel pressing her hands against her chest to keep back the pleural pain.

“I don't know what was so f-funny,” Isabel said when they'd all recovered their breaths. “I suppose a romance at our age has its ludicrous side, but—”

“Oh, Aunt Bel, it's not in the least ludicrous,” Meg assured her. “That's not why we laughed. It's only because you seemed to dislike each other so! If you want to know the truth,” she added, jumping up and embracing her aunt warmly, “I think it's wonderful! I couldn't be more pleased. I've felt from the first, you know, that Dr. Fraser is a man of singular charm, in spite of the fact that he pretends to be so gruff.”

“Thank ye, lass. I
told
yer aunt ye'd not be takin' our news amiss.”

“That's all very well,” Isabel sighed, “and I'm glad she knows, but that doesn't change the fact that we're to leave tomorrow.”

“Leave? Are ye startin' that foolishness again?” the doctor exclaimed loudly. “Woman, y're makin' me daft!”

“Donald, you're giving me the headache with your shouting. I've told you from the first that if Meg goes, I go too.”

“You will
not
go, you goose!” Meg said firmly. “I've never heard such nonsense.”

“That's a good lass!” the doctor said, cavorting about the room with a merry little Scottish dance step.

Isabel's face brightened. “Do you mean, Meggie, my dear, that you'll stay, then?”

“I?” Meg blinked as the full import of what was happening struck her with a forcible blow. She couldn't stay … neither in this house nor in this neighborhood. Yet she couldn't expect her aunt to leave with her—not now. Dr. Fraser couldn't be expected to give up his medical practice and come to London; therefore, Isabel, if she was to live happily ever after, would have to be convinced to remain here in the north with her Donald. But for Meg to remain with her was out of the question.
Her
happiness—whatever was left of it—depended on getting away. “I can't stay here any longer, my dear,” she said with a sigh. “It wouldn't be right.”

“Why not, Meg? Donald and I can be wed within a fortnight. He tells me he has a huge, commodious house in which we can
all
live comfortably. The Carriers would be delighted, I'm certain, to have us stay with them until then.”

Meg sat down on the bed and took her aunt's hand in hers. “We must try to be sensible, Aunt Bel. You must certainly stay here with the Carriers until you wed, and then you'll take up residence with your husband as a proper wife should. But under no circumstances will I move in with you. My home is in London, and that's where I belong.”

Isabel argued long and hard. She used tears and threats. She even swore she would give up her wedding plans rather than permit her niece to live alone. But after a while, Meg's reasoning prevailed. “Very well, Meggie, my love, go home if you must,” Isabel said at last, tears running down her face. “But you must promise two things—one that you'll hire a companion—a respectable woman to live in the house with you—and two, that you'll come to visit us very, very often.”

“I promise,” Meg agreed. “But now, my dear, you must let me go and begin my packing. Dr. Fraser … Donald … I hope you can coax her out of the doldrums as soon as I leave you two alone. Look at her—she's become a veritable watering-pot.”

“I kn-know,” Isabel said, wiping her overflowing eyes with the already-soaking handkerchief. “I can't seem to s-stop. I had so hoped that you and Geoffrey would make a m-match of it. It would have been so lovely to have you living j-just down the road!”

Meg recalled those words several times while she packed. Yes, it would have been lovely indeed. As it was, her prospects were gloomier than they'd ever been before. She was returning home entirely alone, leaving behind her beloved aunt and her last expectation of happiness. She would return to London without family, without the prospect of a promising suitor and without even the hope of being able to retain her fortune after her twenty-sixth birthday rolled round.

She stared at her belongings, stacked neatly at the door of her bedroom. A bandbox and a portmanteau … that was all she would take with her when she left this house forever. She had her memories, of course, but even they, if they'd needed to be packed, would not have taken up much room: one windblown afternoon and one kiss on a hill. Not very much to remember of a fortnight that had altered her life.

But of course there was still Roodle. He, at least, would be glad to make the journey with her. His impatience to see London had been made manifest at every one of their interviews which he'd periodically requested to inform her of the condition of the chestnuts and to ask her plans. He realized that she had better send for him at once and tell him to ready himself for travel.

Roodle was overjoyed to learn that they were to set out at last, but he was surprised at her decision to start first thing in the morning. “We can't do it, ma'am. We ain't got no carriage. If ye'll be wantin' me to 'ire one, I'll 'ave to go to Masham, and it'll be noon, at least, afore I can be back with a rig.”

“Oh, dear, I'd forgotten about the carriage. It's being repaired, isn't it? Well, at least we still have the horses. Will it be difficult to hire a carriage, do you suppose?”

“No, ma'am, not with enough blunt it won't. But we ain't got the 'orses neither, y' know. Lord Isham, he took 'em away last night. Gave me a good jawin' as well when 'e caught sight o' me.”

“Did he?” She looked at him remorsefully. “Are you sorry you agreed to throw in your lot with me, Roodle? Have I selfishly uprooted you from your accustomed surroundings and left you abandoned and friendless? Have I made you miserable?”

“'Oo, me? Why should ye think so, ma'am? You ain't abandoned me, 'ave ye? Y're takin' me to London, just like ye said. Just 'cause 'is lordship jawed at me ain't no reason to turn twitty. Fact is, when he began t' kick up a dust, I tole 'im to stow 'is clapper in 'is ear! ‘I ain't on yer staff no more,' I tole 'im plain, ‘an' I don't need to listen to yer blabber.' It was worth a yellow boy to see 'is face!”

Reassured, Meg gave him all the cash she had left in her reticule and instructed him to hire horses and a carriage in Masham first thing in the morning. But the interview with the groom left her with a new set of worries, for she had not a groat left in her pockets. Could she embark on a two-day journey in so impecunious a state?

But surely, she reasoned, any proper hostelry would extend her credit when they learned her identity. She needn't concern herself on that score. But it hurt her pride that she would have to depart from Knight's Haven without being able to leave Geoffrey the money for the repair to Isham's carriage. As host, he would probably refuse to permit her to pay for anything
else
, but
that
at least should be her responsibility. Oh, well, it would have to wait until she'd returned home and instructed her man of business to settle her debts.

She was surprised, the next morning, to be awakened early by a neat young housemaid dressed in a cloak and carrying a small traveling bag. “I'm Brynne, your ladyship. I'm to ‘company you to Lunnon. Roodle tole me to tell you the carriage is waitin' and that he's ready whenever you are.”

“What?” Meg asked sleepily, trying to brush the hair from her eyes and the cobwebs from her mind. “Has he rented a rig
already?
”

“No, ma'am, I don't think so. It's Sir Geoffrey's phaeton that's waitin' at the door.”

“Sir Geoffrey's!” Meg threw aside the bedclothes in agitation and jumped out of bed. “Now listen here, girl, you're to go at once to Sir Geoffrey and tell him that I've made my own arrangements, thank you, and that I've no need for his carriage or his servants. And then tell Roodle to get himself to Masham and hire a carriage as I instructed!”

She washed and dressed with lightning speed, a remarkable performance considering that her hands were trembling in rage. What right had that overbearing man to interfere with her plans? Was he determined to make even this, her last morning under his roof, a time of stress and argument?

She was tying on the second of her half-boots (the back of her dress still partially unbuttoned and her hair still tousled from sleep) when she heard a tap on the door. “Come in, Brynne. Has Roodle gone?” she queried.

“No, he has not,” came Geoffrey's voice from the doorway. “You will ride in my carriage, and you will do so with good grace! I won't have you countermanding my orders and upsetting my household.”

“Confound it, Geoffrey,” she said furiously, jumping to her feet, “I'm not one of your family. I'm not under your jurisdiction. I don't have to obey your orders.”

“It would help if you lowered your voice, ma'am. We needn't have the entire household privvy to our wrangles.”

“Then you'd better come in and close the door, for if you intend to persist in your high-handed behavior, I'm very much afraid they'll hear me in Scotland!”

He closed the door and came up to her. “Turn around,” he said curtly.

“What?” she asked suspiciously. “Why?”

“Must you question everything? Turn around.”

With an impatient explosion of breath, she did what he asked and turned her back to him. Calmly, he began to hook up the buttons on the back of her dress as he spoke. “Now, ma'am,” he said quietly, “please explain to me what possible objection you might have to my providing you with transportation home.”

The homely intimacy of his doing up her buttons almost completely dissipated her fury. “Thank you,” she said, embarrassingly chastened, “but I can do those for myself.”

“Just hold up that mane of hair and answer my question! Why must you go to the trouble of renting a vehicle when I have a perfectly good carriage available for your use?”

She lifted her hair from the back of her neck with both hands and lowered her head. “I don't wish to be beholden to you for more than I am already.”

“You needn't feel beholden to me at all. You were involved in an accident because of my coachman's carelessness, an accident which resulted in injury to you and illness for your aunt. Because the accident must be regarded as my responsibility, the indebtedness is all on my side. There—you may turn back now.”

“Am I buttoned?”

“To the neck. Dash it, Meg, why do you wish to deny me the satisfaction of trying to make up to you for a fortnight of inconvenience and pain by seeing to it that you're delivered safely home?”

She turned around, much mollified, but stubbornly set on making her way back home without help from him. “You exaggerate your responsibilities, sir. There's no need to make anything up to me. After all, the results of the accident have not been so very disastrous.”

He gave her a sharp look. “Haven't they?”

Her eyes flickered away from the intensity of his. “Well, my ankle is healed, and Isabel—have you heard that she's to be wed?”

He grinned his rare, surprisingly disturbing grin. “Yes, isn't it the most amazing pass? I guessed from the first that Fraser was taken with her, but I never dreamed that she had anything but the liveliest dislike of him.”

“They both had me completely fooled. And now my aunt claims that it was love at first sight! Did you every hear anything so preposterous?”

“As Fraser himself would say (if it were anyone but he who was involved), it's entirely
withershins
. But then, almost anything you women tell me sounds upside-down to me.”