The Sherbrooke Series Novels 1-5 (91 page)

“No one has done much of anything since Fiona and Colin’s brother died.”

“Including simple housekeeping?”

“So it would appear.” MacDuff looked around the large first floor. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed. But you know, things have been like this since Colin’s mother died some five years ago. It’s good you’re here, Sinjun. You can see that all is brought back up to snuff.”

“Her name is Joan.”

“Your one refrain, Colin?” His voice was amiable. He shook his cousin’s hand, making Colin wince.

“Joan is her name.”

“Well, I prefer Sinjun. Now, let’s go into the drawing room, shall we? Doubtless your bride would like a sherry.”

“Yes, I would,” Sinjun said, and looked at her husband and swallowed. He was beautiful in black evening garb and pristine white linen. He was immaculate and so handsome she wanted to hurl herself into his arms. She wanted to kiss his mouth,
his earlobe, the pulse in his neck.

“Good evening, Joan.”

“Hello, Colin.”

He arched a black brow at the interested tone of her voice, but said nothing, merely bowed.

Aunt Arleth was the only one in the dark and dour drawing room, sitting near a sluggishly burning peat fire. She was dressed in unrelieved black, a beautiful cameo at her throat. She was very thin, her hair black and luxuriant, pulled up in an elegant twist, white wings sweeping back at her temples. She had once been quite pretty. Now she looked annoyed, her mouth thin, her pointed chin up. Aunt Arleth rose and said without preamble, “The children are eating with Dulcie in the nursery. My nerves are overset, nephew, what with the arrival of this Young Person, whom you had to carry upstairs, with everyone looking. I don’t want the children at my table tonight.”

Colin merely smiled. “I, on the other hand, have missed my children.” He motioned to a footman, who was wearing a very ragged livery of dark blue and faded white. “Fetch the children, please, Rory.”

There was a hiss of anger, and Sinjun turned to Aunt Arleth and said, “Please, ma’am, it is I who wish to have them at the dinner table. They’re now my responsibility and I should like to get to know them.”

“I have never believed children should be allowed to eat with the adults.”

“Yes, Aunt, we know your feelings. Indulge me for this evening. Joan, some sherry? Aunt, what would you like?”

Aunt Arleth accepted her sherry, sat down, and became markedly silent. Serena came into the drawing room at that moment, looking like a princess in a very formal gown of pale pink silk, her lovely dark brown hair threaded through with matching pink
ribbon. She was smiling, her eyes bright and very gray and staring directly at Colin. Oh dear, Sinjun thought, and accepted her sherry from MacDuff. What, she wondered, was it going to be like when Colin left? Serena then nodded to Sinjun and gave her a smile that said quite clearly that she knew she was beautiful and Sinjun must know it as well.

Sinjun smiled at her, willing to try, and to her surprise Serena smiled back. It seemed a genuine smile, and Sinjun prayed it was, but she wasn’t stupid. There were deep waters in Vere Castle, very deep. Then the children were ushered in by Dulcie, the nursery maid, a young girl with merry dark eyes and a lovely smile and a very big bosom.

Both children were beautiful. Philip, the image of his father, stood tall and proud and scared. His eyes darted from his father to Sinjun and back again. He made no move toward anyone, nor did he say anything. Dahling, on the other hand, walked over to her father in her too-short gown and a pair of slippers that had certainly seen better days, and said, “Dulcie said if we weren’t good at the dinner table and made you yell at us, the ghost of Pearlin’ Jane would get us.”

“Och, what a bairn!” Dulcie exclaimed, throwing up her hands and laughing. “Yer a wee nit, ye are, my lass!”

“Thank you, Dulcie,” Aunt Arleth said, clearly dismissing the girl. “You may return to fetch them in an hour, no longer, mind.”

“Aye, ma’am,” Dulcie said in a squashed voice as she curtsied.

“I don’t like you filling the child’s mind with those absurd ghost stories.”

“No, ma’am.”

“There are many who have seen Pearlin’ Jane,” MacDuff said mildly. He turned to Sinjun. “She’s
our most famous ghost, a young lady who was supposedly betrayed and heartlessly murdered by our great-grandfather.”

“Nonsense,” said Aunt Arleth. “I’ve never seen her. Your great-grandfather wouldn’t have hurt a gnat.”

“Fiona saw her many times,” Serena said quietly to Sinjun. “She told me that the first time she saw her in her white pearl-sewn gown, she nearly fainted with fright, but the ghost didn’t try to harm her or scare her. She just sat there, atop the castle gate, her face as white as death itself, and stared at her.”

“I fancy that was just about the time Fiona discovered Colin had a mistress.”

Sinjun gasped. She stared at Aunt Arleth, not believing what the woman had said. It was outrageous; it was unbelievable. Now she said to Sinjun, her voice full of spite, “Don’t be a ninny, girl! Men are men no matter where you are, and they all have mistresses, aye, and Fiona found out about that little slut he’d taken to his bed.”

Sinjun looked swiftly at Colin, but there was only a sardonic look on his face. It was as if he were quite used to this sort of attack and didn’t regard it. But Sinjun had no intention of ignoring it. She was infuriated. She said in a very loud and clear voice, “You will not speak of Colin again in that discreditable way. He would never break his vows, never. If you think he would, why then, you are either blind or stupid, or just plain mean. I won’t tolerate it, ma’am. You live in my husband’s house. You will treat him with the respect he deserves.”

How to make an enemy in just a few short seconds, Sinjun thought. Aunt Arleth sucked in her breath but said nothing. Sinjun looked down at her clasped hands. There was utter silence.

Then Colin laughed, a deep, full, rich laugh that reverberated off the water-spotted wallpaper of the large drawing room. He said with very real humor, “Aunt Arleth, beware. Joan here must needs protect me. She won’t allow any insult against me. She needs but a horse and some armor and she would go into a tourney to defend my honor. I suggest, ma’am, that you moderate your speech when around her. I have found that even when she is angry with me, she is still ferocious in her defense of me. Only she is allowed to cosh my head, no one else. It’s odd, but it’s true. Now, shall we all adjourn to the dining room? Philip, take Dahling’s hand. Joan, allow me to show you the way.”

“She needs to be taught manners,” Aunt Arleth said under her breath, but of course not under enough.

“My groats are on you,” MacDuff said in Sinjun’s ear as Colin seated her in the countess’s chair down the long expanse of mahogany dining table. It was Aunt Arleth’s chair, Sinjun knew that. She held her breath, but Aunt Arleth merely paused a moment, then shrugged. She seated herself in a chair held by Colin, on his left hand. No upset, no uproar, for which Sinjun was grateful. The children were placed in the middle, MacDuff on one side, Serena on the other.

“I wish to propose a toast,” Colin said, and rose to his feet. He lifted his wineglass. “To the new countess of Ashburnham.”

“Hear! Hear!” MacDuff shouted.

“Yes, indeed,” said Serena warmly.

The children looked from their father to their new stepmother. Philip said very clearly, “You’re not our mother even though Father has had to make you the countess to save us from ruin.”

Aunt Arleth smiled maliciously at Sinjun.

“No, I’m not your mother. If you hadn’t noticed, Philip, I’m far too young to be your mother. Goodness, I’m only nineteen. It was a strange thing for you to say, you know.”

“Even when you’re old you won’t be our mother.”

Sinjun only smiled at the boy. “Perhaps not. Soon my mare, Fanny, should arrive. She’s a great goer, Philip. Do you ride?”

“Of course,” he said in a scornful voice. “I’m a Kinross and someday I will be the laird. Even Dahling rides, and she’s just a little nit.”

“Excellent. Perhaps both of you will show me some of the countryside on the morrow.”

“They have their lessons,” said Aunt Arleth. “I must teach them, since the governesses won’t stay. It’s Serena’s duty, but she shirks it.”

Colin said mildly, “Joan is a treat, Aunt. Let the children attend her. No matter their snits, she is their stepmother and is here to stay. They must get to know her.” He then bent a very stern eye on his son. “You won’t torment her, do you understand me, Philip?”

“Yes,” Sinjun agreed in high good humor, “no snakes in my bed, no slimy moss dredged up from a swamp for me to sit on or clutch in my hand in the dark.”

“We have better things than that,” Dahling said.

“The slime is an interesting thought,” Philip said, and Sinjun recognized that intense contemplative look. She’d seen it a number of times on every child’s face she’d ever known.

“Eat your potatoes,” Colin said. “Forget slime.”

There was haggis for dinner, and Sinjun wondered if she would fade away and become another resident ghost through lack of food. At least there were several removes, so she managed to eat enough to satisfy her. She listened to Colin and MacDuff
discuss several business ventures and problems with local people. She drifted a bit, for there was still pain between her thighs, dull and throbbing now, but still there. She jerked her head up when she heard Colin say, “I’ll be leaving in the morning to return to Edinburgh. There is much to be done.”

“Now that you have her money?” Aunt Arleth said.

“Yes,” Colin said. “Now that I have her money I can begin to solve all the miserable problems left by my father and brother.”

“Your father was a great man,” said Arleth. “None of it was his fault.”

Colin opened his mouth, then merely smiled and shook his head. He continued his conversation with MacDuff. Sinjun would have liked to throw her plate at his head. He truly was going to dump her here in this strange place, and without a by-your-leave. Wonderful, just wonderful. Two children who would do their best to make her life miserable, and two women who would probably just as soon see her jump from one of the crenellated towers as speak to her.

Serena said, “We must have a party for your wife, Colin. It will be expected. All our neighbors will be aghast to learn that you’ve married again so quickly—after all, it’s only been seven months—but since you only did it for her money, it’s best that they understand it as quickly as possible. Don’t you agree, MacDuff?”

Cousin MacDuff said nothing, merely turned to Colin when he said, “When I return we will discuss it.”

Sinjun forked down a bit of potatoes and gave her attention to her new home. It was far more pleasant than her dinner companions. The Tudor
dining room was, somewhat to her surprise, utterly charming. It was long and narrow, with portraits covering nearly every inch of wall. The huge table and ornately carved chairs were heavy and dark and surprisingly comfortable. The draperies that ran the entire brace of long windows at the front of the room were old and shiny, but the quality was there and the color was superb. She fancied that she would match the same soft gold brocade.

“Vere Castle is the finest house in all the county.”

She smiled toward Serena. “It’s magical.”

“It’s also falling down about our ears,” Aunt Arleth said. “I don’t imagine that Colin has got you with child yet.”

That was straight talking, Sinjun thought. She heard a fork clatter to a plate and looked up to see Colin staring at his aunt. It was a bit of impertinence, but since Colin had already spoken of it, Sinjun wasn’t shocked as she had been at first.

“No,” she said mildly.

“You will remember the children are here, Aunt.”

“We don’t want any of her children around,” Philip said. “You won’t allow it, will you, Papa? You have me and Dahling. You don’t need more children.”

“We wouldn’t like them at all,” Dahling said. “They’d be ugly, like her.”

“Now, now,” Sinjun said, laughing. “They could be quite beautiful, like your father. And, Dahling, you did admit that my Sherbrooke blue eyes were nice as well as my Sherbrooke chestnut hair.”

“You made me,” said Dahling, her lower lip jutting out.

“True. I twisted your arm and stuck pins in your nose. Already I’m such a wicked stepmother.”

“Pearlin’ Jane will get you,” Dahling said as a last resort.

“I look forward to seeing her,” Sinjun said. “I will see if she is as impressive as our own Virgin Bride.”

“Virgin Bride?” MacDuff cocked his head to one side, his bushy red eyebrows hiked up a good inch.

“She’s our resident ghost at Northcliffe Hall, a young lady of the sixteenth century who was just wedded when her groom was murdered before he could come to her.”

Dahling’s eyes were fixed on Sinjun’s face. “She’s real? You’ve seen her?”

“Oh yes. She appears to the ladies of the family, but I know for a fact that my brother the earl has seen her as well, though he refuses to admit it. She’s quite beautiful, really, with very long pale hair and a flowing gown. She speaks to you but never out loud; it’s in your mind you can hear her, I guess you’d say. She seems to want to keep the ladies of the house safe.”