The Lady of Lyon House (11 page)

I was waiting for Edward Lyon. He had promised to take me for the canoe ride this morning. I had awakened early after a night of fitful sleep, and I had hurried outside after a solitary breakfast. No one else had been up at that early hour, and I was content to examine the gardens and think my own private thoughts.

They mostly concerned Edward Lyon. He had had a long talk with me last night, finding me still in the library after dinner. Languorous, rather lazy, he had stretched out on the sofa, regarding me with eyes whose lids drooped sleepily. He asked me all about the music hall and the people there and then he asked me about my sister Maureen, and I found myself telling him all that I remembered of that beautiful stranger. He told me in turn about his childhood at Lyon House and how he had been a mischievous, moody little boy who was always getting into trouble. I could not deny the fascination the man had for me. Every detail about his life seemed incredibly important to me. I was a little afraid of him.

Perhaps I was not so much afraid of him as I was afraid of myself. I had had absolutely no experience with men, and I was a little bewildered by my reactions to his presence. I was polite and cool and modest on the surface, the properly bred young woman, but within there was something that I did not think proper at all. I wished I could discuss it with Laverne or Mattie, but as it was I would have to fend for myself. I knew Edward Lyon was dangerous for me, and I knew I was not capable of coping with him if he chose to become attentive.

He was suave, sophisticated, a man of the world, handsome, well bred and formidably intelligent, for all that he had not done well at Oxford. He had the poise and polish of a man much older, while I was as green and inexperienced as it was possible to be. I had never had so much as a school girl crush on anyone, and if I was to be initiated into those mysteries of life that the chorus girls babbled so much about, it was far better that I choose a less adept instructor.

I thought of the mysterious woman Molly had mentioned. I tried to visualize her. She would be beautiful, worldly, a suitable match for the man. With women like that available to him, he would have little use for someone like me. I knew that. I knew that I was courting disaster when I thought about him in this way, but it was exciting. I might think my own thoughts, but I had sense enough not to let anyone else suspect them. I would continue to be polite and friendly with Edward Lyon, content to play the role of the child he must think of me as.

He came out of the house now, blinking a little at the sunlight and running his fingers through his thick auburn hair. He was wearing a suit of some light gray and white striped material and he carried a straw hat, suitable for canoeing. He put the hat on his head and sauntered towards me, his hands jammed in his pockets. His green tie was a little crooked and the hat was perched at a jaunty angle.

“Morning,” he said. “Been up long?”

“For hours,” I said. “Long before Corinne went for her ride. I saw her come in a while ago.”

“Incredible,” he cried.

“What?”

“That anyone can get up that early. I would lounge in bed half the morning if I thought Corinne would tolerate it. I'm lazy by nature, you know. The life of leisure—that's for me.”

“Then how do you explain rowing—and soccer at college?”

“Sports. That's play, not work.”

“You don't like work?”

“Does anyone?” he asked.

“I don't mind it,” I replied rather primly.

Edward Lyon threw back his head and laughed. It was a rich sound. I blushed a little, feeling that he was mocking me. His dark brown eyes were full of good humor, and he flung his arm casually around my shoulder, walking with me down the path. I was uncomfortable, but I tried to appear unconcerned. I could smell the pungent smell of his shaving lotion and the weight of his arm on my shoulder made me awkward.

“You're a remarkable child,” he said. “Refreshing. Corinne is going to fight me for your company. This sunlight is a bit much, isn't it? Blinding!”

“It's lovely,” I remarked.

“But not at this hour. Are you sure you don't want to postpone this canoe ride till the afternoon?”

“You promised,” I said, “but—if you don't think you can manage—”

“Silly child. I can manage all right. I can canoe in a gale. Do you take me for a weakling?”

“Not exactly.”

“I was a champion pugilist in college. Won a couple of prizes. For a while I thought of doing it for a living—but a Lyon in boxing trunks! My ancestors would have turned over in their graves. Besides, it took a bit too much effort. Nevertheless, if anyone ever bothers you, just let me know and I'll flatten the villain with one mighty blow.”

“Wouldn't that take a bit too much effort, too?” I asked sweetly.

He chuckled. “I suppose you think I'm disgraceful?”

“A little,” I admitted.

“Marvelous,” he said. “Women always find the caddish type irresistible. Virtue is becoming only in women.”

“Then why are men so apt to seek the company of the unvirtuous women of the world?”

“La,” he said, still chuckling. “There are things that aren't fit for such young ears.”

We had left the gardens behind and were walking down the flagstone path to the river. Trees grew on either side, their leaves dark green and rustling lightly in the breeze. We passed a little clearing with buttercups making bright yellow spots on the grass. An ancient gazebo stood in the middle of the clearing, the roof sagging, the white paint peeling a little from the sides. It must once have been lovely, but now it was boarded up, the planks nailed haphazardly over all the octagon sides. I asked Edward about it.

“I understand it was the favorite retreat of my grandmother,” he replied. “There was some sort of accident there long ago. It was boarded up then and hasn't been used since.”

“It's rather isolated,” I remarked. “It must once have been a perfect place for a romantic tryst.”

I watched his reaction carefully. I had remembered that Molly said her friend saw Edward Lyon and the mysterious woman walking down to the gazebo, and I was deliberately baiting him. He merely smiled, not at all disturbed by the remark.

“Undoubtedly,” he replied. “Probably was, too. Those ancestors of mine were a gamy bunch, despite the beards and stern expressions.”

We passed the clearing and the path curved around a group of trees. I could see the river now, the water very blue, sparkling with silver reflections. Willow trees grew thick on either side of the water, their graceful jade green leaves dripping down into it. There was a boathouse and a little pier. The canoe was already on the water, tied to the pier and bouncing on the slight waves. It looked terribly flimsy, and I was a little dubious about getting into it. Edward Lvon saw my apprehension and grinned.

“Nothing to be afraid of,” he said.

He took my hand and led me over the wooden pier. He helped me into the canoe, holding my hand firmly while the boat rocked under my feet. I was afraid I was going to pitch into the water.

“Steady,” he said. “Careful there. Sit on those pillows. Relax. It looks shaky, but it won't tip over unless you make a sudden move.”

He climbed into the boat, moving rapidly and with assurance. The canoe rocked and the water splashed around us, but Edward Lyon merely laughed and unfastened the rope that held it to the pier. In a moment we were moving down the river. There was a basket of food in the middle of the canoe, with a checked tablecloth folded over it. I could see part of a loaf of bread and the top of a wine bottle sticking out.

“My idea,” he said. “I thought we would stop somewhere on the way back and have a picnic lunch. We can cool the wine in the water.”

“How thoughtful,” I remarked.

“Oh, I'm thoughtful, too, as well as disgraceful.”

He looked up at me and grinned, and I smiled back at him. It was so peaceful on the river, and I was completely at ease now. The gentle motion of the canoe as it glided down the river and the steady sound of the paddle dipping into the water were relaxing, and all disturbing thoughts were banished. Edward Lyon paddled steadily and skillfully. I could see the muscles working under his suit, and I knew that it was work, but he seemed to be using no effort at all. He was completely relaxed, his lips resting in a slight grin, the white straw hat slanted rakishly over his head.

I lay back on the cushions, looking up at the patches of sky visible through the branches of the trees. We drifted under willow trees and the long leaves parted for us and stroked the canoe like strands of soft jade cloth. The bank was shady, frequently covered with dark green moss and slick brown mud. The silver sunbursts in the middle of the river were blindingly bright, and when the canoe passed over them they shattered and caused the water to shimmer with silver shavings. There was no sound but the dip and splash of the paddle, steady and monotonous, and the frequent cry of a bird in a thicket.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

“How very peaceful this is. Not at all like London.”

“London isn't very peaceful, is it?”

“Not at all, but I love it.”

“Then why did you leave it?” he inquired.

“It wasn't my decision.”

“Oh? It does seem strange. I understand your puppet act was one of the primary attractions at the music hall. It seems odd that your guardian would send you off.”

“Bert and Sarah will fill my spot. They're old favorites.”

“Do you miss them all already?”

“A little, but I'm happy to be here on the river.”

“I'm happy you're here, too. Their loss is my gain. I won't let them have you back for a while. You can consider yourself my captive at Lyon House. Try to get away and you'll have me to reckon with.”

“Then I suppose I must enjoy my captivity,” I said idly.

“That's the attitude, lass. Don't give me a hard time and we'll do fine. I'm mean when crossed.”

“I can't visualize you being mean under any circumstances,” I told him.

“Oh, I can wield a whip with the best of them. Give me a dark cape and a waxed mustache and I'd be a proper villain, terrorizing widows and throttling defenseless maidens.”

“You seem to be a man of many facets.”

“Keep them guessing. That's my motto.”

He pulled the paddle in and let the canoe drift with the current. We passed under a stone bridge, those in the water stained with moss. A long shadow fell across the water. I dangled my hand over the side of the canoe. The water was icy cold, although the sun was warm. Insects darted across the surface of the water, skimming on gauzy wings. The sun felt good on my cheeks.

“I hope your aunt didn't mind us going off like this,” I said.

“Corinne is jealous, but she'll get over it. She feels mistreated. She loves to sulk almost as much as she loves to rage.”

“Will she really mind?”

“Of course not. She wants you to enjoy yourself.”

“She seemed so upset yesterday,” I said.

“Corinne had one of her bad days yesterday,” Edward said. “Unfortunate for you, it being your first day at Lyon House, but don't let it bother you. She has them frequently, but they pass, like storms. She is always in such a better mood afterwards. She'll probably be all charm and politeness today.”

“I understand,” I replied. “I think she's endearing.”

“That's an odd word to apply to my dear aunt.”

“She's different from anyone I've ever met.”

“That she is.”

“I think I am going to like her. She and Mrs. Crandall had a really bad scene yesterday, though. I thought they were going to tear each other apart.”

Edward Lyon frowned, his dark brows pressing together and his eyes growing dark. “Agatha is bad for Corinne,” he said. “They're very much alike, in some ways, both old, both self-willed. But whereas Corinne is hot tempered and boiling over, Agatha is sly and stealthy. I wouldn't have too much to do with her if I were you, Julia.”

“I felt sorry for her,” I remarked.

“Agatha? Don't fool yourself.” His voice was somber.

“If they fight so much, why doesn't Corinne send her away?”

He shrugged his shoulders and looked at me with extended palms. “It puzzles me,” he said, his tone lighter now. He grinned. “I think Corinne keeps her on just to have a scrapping partner. The others are very expendable, you know, the regular servants. One of her tantrums, and they pack up and leave, but Agatha stays on for another round. They both love a good fight. The eccentricities of the old—” he laughed, and I was relieved to see the good humor coming back.

The canoe drifted on down the river. We passed under another bridge and soon the river grew much wider. The willow trees were scarcer, and I began to see fields. They extended away from the bank in levels, brown and golden-brown and sometimes green. On the horizon there were oxen and men pushing plows, and sometimes cows came down to the bank of the river to drink. Soon there was nothing but the sky above us, and the currents were stronger. Edward Lyon took up the paddle again, working strenuously but without apparent effort. Around a bend, far ahead, I could see the village. The trees and spires and rooftops looked very small.

“Does the river pass right through the village?” I asked.

“Yes. It narrows again, then goes right past the church and the inn and the post office, behind them. The inn has a terrace in back so the guests can sit at tables and watch the river traffic. There isn't much of that today, but sometimes there are dozens of boats. The fishermen go out almost every day. The river leads out to the sea.”

We came closer and closer, and the river grew narrow. We began to pass houses and trees, and soon we passed under a great stone bridge. A little boy sat perched on it, dangling a fishing pole into the water. We were in the village now, and there were several other boats. I watched the people moving down the shady riverbank sidewalks. An old man worked on an ancient gray fishing net extended over poles, mending the tears. A woman pushed a vegetable cart heaped with carrots and beets. The houses were backed against the river, and some of them had yards that came down to the concrete bank. I saw rear windows and sometimes lines of wash. It was a curiously intimate view of the village.