chapter thirteen

She paused outside the library door to, as her brother Jamie would say, gird up her loins for battle. She felt ill-equipped for the encounter, for the lump on her head was distractingly painful, and the strain of the past three days was beginning to show itself in the tremor of her fingers and the nervous twitching of a muscle in her cheek. She struggled against an almost overpowering temptation to turn and flee, but she knew she could not. Too much depended on her success in this skirmish. So she tapped on the door and entered.

Strickland was sitting at the far side of the room before a window, reading a letter. The draperies had been opened just wide enough to provide him with a beam of light in which to see. The dimness of the rest of the room contrasted sharply with the bright arc of light in which he sat. He had to peer intently into the shadows to make out who had come in. “Oh, it’s you,” he muttered, throwing the letter upon a chairside table and getting to his feet. “I didn’t expect you quite so soon.”

“I’d like to come to an understanding as soon as possible, my lord,” she said with more assurance than she felt.

“Good,” Strickland said, striding across the room to confront her. “Therefore, I suggest that you listen to me carefully so that your understanding will be complete. You’re my late wife’s sister, and as such you’re always welcome in this house. The children hold you in great affection—as evidently you do them—and I’ve no wish to suppress or subvert that relationship. However, I must remind you again that Perry is my son, and I will brook no interference in my management of him. It is I who will make the decisions relating to his nurturing, his education, his pastimes and whatever else concerns him.”

“Yes, of course,” Olivia interjected, taken aback by the cold objectivity of his tone, “but—”

“Don’t interrupt, please. We’ve both given our words that we shall have no row. You need merely listen. I have only this to add. You, my dear, must accept my decisions without question and refrain from undermining those decisions in your conversations with the boy and with those I employ to care for him. I hope my meaning is quite clear and that I shall have no need to repeat this speech in the future.”

“But … may I not even discuss with you those decisions of yours which I believe to be in error?” she asked, aghast.

“I have nothing further to say.” He went back to his chair and resumed his reading of his letter.

Olivia gritted her teeth in rage. “You cannot seriously expect me to—” she began, following him across the room.

He didn’t even look up from his page. “That is all I have to say to you, ma’am.”

“But on the matter of the Round Table game … and the tutor’s discharge …” she insisted urgently, trying to contain her fury. “Surely we can discuss—”

“I’m afraid I’ve said all I intend to.” He stood up, crossed to the door and held it open for her. “Good afternoon, my dear. I hope you and the children enjoy your romp in the snow.”

Olivia was so infuriated she could barely breathe. She thought a blood vessel in her neck would burst. “Ooooh!” she exploded, stamping a foot in frustration. “You are impossible!”

“Yes, I suppose I am. You are, of course, free to discuss my shortcomings whenever you like. Although at the moment I’m quite busy.”

Speechless, seething, and completely at a loss, she stalked across the room and swept out past him, not even favoring him with so much as a glance. Her stormy exit had not the slightest effect on him, however. He merely closed the door quietly behind her.

She wheeled about and stared at the closed door. How dared he! He’d treated her as if she were a mere hireling—a maidservant in his his employ whom he could order about at will! The word “tyrant” was too good for him! She trembled in helpless impotence, wanting to scream, to kick the door, or, better still, to kick him!

The sound of clumsy but eager footsteps on the stairs caught her ear. The children clambered down the stairs, barely restrained by Tilda, dressed and impatient for the outdoors. With enormous effort, Olivia pulled herself together, put on a smile and went to meet them. She would have to postpone making a decision about what next she would do in regard to their father. Whatever her next step was to be, it was something that would have to wait.

Later, stumbling through the snow after the children, whose high-pitched laughter struck the cold air like tinkling bells (a sound that was as healing to her spirit as it was to theirs), Olivia found that her mind was unable to refrain from reviewing the latest confrontation with her dastardly brother-in-law. How was she to keep him from stubbornly and autocratically stripping from his son everything in the child’s life that made him feel happy and secure? Certainly another confrontation would be useless with such a tyrant, she realized. In all their previous altercations, she’d come away decidedly the loser. What could she say or do to avoid losing again? Perhaps she had to find a more promising way to deal with him than confrontation.

But every encounter with Strickland seemed to become a confrontation. How could she make him listen to her without falling into disagreement? While she dodged snowballs, brushed snowflakes from the children’s reddened cheeks and rescued Amy from snow drifts that proved to be too deep for her, Olivia’s mind probed for an answer. She had to discover what it was in their relationship that made them antagonistic from the outset.

A soft ball of snow, well aimed by her nephew, splattered squarely in her face at the precise moment when a sudden insight struck her mind. While the boy cackled in mischievous glee to see his aunt gasp in surprise, topple back and sputteringly eject a mouthful of snow, she—even while blinking and choking—found herself mulling over this new idea. Strickland saw her as an enemy!

Olivia had always been aware that her brother-in-law didn’t like her … that he thought of her as an eccentric and old-maidish bluestocking. She was also aware that he was infuriated at what he judged to be her interference in his family life. But it had not occurred to her before that her brother-in-law might very well look upon her as a foe—perhaps even a venomous and bitter one. The idea struck with the force of a revelation!

After all, she had accosted him on more than one occasion with accusations of very serious crimes: adultery for one, and the abuse of his son for another. It was perhaps not very surprising that he viewed her with belligerence whenever he saw her. He might very well have felt a need to defend himself against her attacks by attacking her in his turn.

Picking herself up from the snow, brushing off her skirts and scooping up a handful of snow to prepare to chase her nephew with a retributive counterattack, she smiled to herself with satisfaction. She had come to a bit of understanding which would help her to find a way to approach her difficult brother-in-law. All she had to do was to convince him that she could become an ally instead of an adversary.

But how? Their past encounters had widened the already wide barrier which had existed between them from the first. If only she could make him see that the past must be forgotten, that their mutual dislike must be ignored, and that their differences must be put aside for the sake of the children. Her eyes misted over as she watched the two innocents cavorting through the drifts, pelting each other with handfuls of snow and chortling in the happy, carefree manner that should have been their usual spirit but was all too rare for them. If only she could convince Strickland that they must both strive for the same goal—the happiness of these two motherless tots.

“Aunt Livie, let’s build a snow fort,” Perry called out, his breath visible in the frosty air.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” she said with enthusiasm. “How do we do it?”

“I don’t know. We must shape the snow into blocks—like stones, you know—and set them one on the other.”

“Yes, that sounds like an excellent plan,” his aunt agreed. “Do you think we should clear a space first?”

Perry considered the matter. “Would that be a very huge task?”

“Quite huge, I think.” Suddenly her heart gave a little leap as she was struck with an inspiration. “What we need is somebody really strong and clever to help us. A strong, grown man.”

“Do you think so? Shall I call Mr. Clapham?”

“No,” his aunt said, looking toward the house speculatively. “You start to shape the blocks, Perry … and get Amy to help you. And I shall go into the house and call for some real assistance.”

“What do you mean, Aunt Livie? Whom will you call?”

“I think, love,” she said with a broad smile, “that I shall call the very best person for the task. Your father.”

Perry seemed to freeze. “Oh, I don’t …! Never mind, Aunt Livie. We don’t w-want to disturb Papa.”

“We won’t disturb him, love. I’m certain he’d like to help you with the fort.”

Perry eyed her dubiously. “Would he? I don’t … think so. Besides, he’d get angry if I did something wrong …”

Olivia knelt beside him and tightened his scarf about his neck. “Are you afraid of him, Perry? There’s not the least need to be, you know. He’s not a monster. He may seem angry sometimes, when he has a great deal on his mind, but he doesn’t mean to be cross with you. If you remember that you’re his first-and-only son, and that he loves you very much, you won’t need to feel alarmed if he scowls a bit.”

Perry thought over what she’d said. “Do you really think he would like to build a snow fort with me?”

Olivia smiled and got to her feet. “I shouldn’t be at all surprised. But let me go in and ask him, and then we shall see what we shall see.”

She walked briskly into the library without knocking, carrying his greatcoat over her arm and his beaver in her hand. He looked up from his newspaper, startled.

“Will you put on your coat and come out with me, sir? Perry has need of you.”

He looked alarmed. “Has something happened to the boy?” he asked, starting from his chair.

“No, of course not. We just need your help. We’re playing in the snow, you know. I’ve brought your—”

“You wish me to come and play in the snow?” He stared at her in revulsion. “Play in the snow? I think, Olivia, that something has addled your wits.”

“I refuse to let you goad me into quarreling with you, my lord. Here—I’ve brought your hat and greatcoat. Please put them on. Perry wants to build a snow fort, and he needs some help. No one but his father will do for it.”

He eyed her suspiciously. “Perry asked for me?”

“Yes,” she lied. “Does that surprise you?”

“Yes, in fact it does. I don’t remember his ever seeking my companionship before.”

“Perhaps he was afraid you’d refuse him—as you are doing now.”

“Hmmm.” He frowned at her sullenly. “You are not suggesting, are you, that I’m so forbidding that my own son—?”

She bit her lip. Didn’t he know how forbidding he was? But following such avenues of thought would result in another quarrel, and she had another intention entirely. “No, my lord, of course not,” she said, looking down at the floor to keep from meeting his eyes, “although you have been known to be short-tempered …”

He snorted. “With you, perhaps. You’d set the temper of a saint to boil! But I’ve not been especially short-tempered with Perry. At least, not that I can remember.”

“But you’ve been short with people in his presence, and that, you know, can be enough to frighten a child.”

“Rubbish. Nothing about me to frighten anyone. Perry has always been too timorous—I’d noticed that from his earliest days. Spends too much time with women. Why, even little Amy runs up to me with less trepidation than her brother.”

“All the more reason for you to spend more time with the boy. How will your son know how to be a man without a proper example?”

He fixed his eye on her again, as if wary of her motives. “Are you trying one of your interfering tricks, ma’am? I hope you are not going to force me to repeat what I said to you earlier.”

“In what way can my asking you to join us outdoors be interfering? Come, sir, let me help you on with your coat.”

He peered at her cautiously, but she smiled up at him with ingenuous innocence. After a moment, he shrugged. “I’ll help myself, thank you,” he muttered and pulled the coat from her grasp.

She wanted to jump in the air and clap her hands in triumph. He was going to do as she asked! “Thank you, my lord,” she said, barely able to contain her urge to grin.

“You needn’t look like the cat with the canary,” he added grumpily. “I had intended to go outdoors for a walk in any case. I need some air to clear my head.”

She didn’t answer but stood meekly watching as he threw on his greatcoat and clapped his beaver on his head. She handed him his long scarf, which he wound round his neck, and they walked down the hall to the drawing room and out the tall doors leading to the terrace. As the brilliant sunlight struck his eyes, Strickland winced. “Good God, it’s blinding! I shall have to stand here a moment and become accustomed to the light.”

“That’s because you’ve been sitting about in darkened rooms for much too long,” Olivia taunted unsympathetically.

He glowered at her and determinedly walked on.

She caught up to him and touched his arm. “May I say something before we join the children, my lord?”

“What is it now?”

“I … er … think it extremely kind in you to agree to come out to play with them, but …”

“But?” he asked, steeling himself.

“But—and I hope you will not interpret this as interfering—I would like to suggest that, during this afternoon with them, you refrain from … er … lecturing Perry about anything. Let’s just have a bit of pure playtime for a change.”

“Lecture? Why would I lecture him?”

“Well, you do have a tendency … that is, I had noticed that—”

“Are you suggesting, ma’am, that I lecture him—and by ‘lecture’ I am certain you mean ‘scold’—every time I come in contact with him?”

“Not every time, perhaps.”

“Thank you!” He stomped across the terrace and down the steps, Olivia hurrying to keep apace. “You are having a delightful time, aren’t you, ma’am? Meddling and interfering and criticizing to your heart’s content. Very well, you may have your way. I shall not lecture the boy. Is there anything else about which you would like to caution me?”

“Yes, there is something …”

He stood stock still and faced her. “I might have known,” he muttered. “Well, go on!”

“You might try to … er … smile just a bit, you know, my lord. You have a tendency to glower.”

“Glower?”

“Yes.”

He glowered at her. “It’s no wonder. Anyone would glower if he had to hear someone my lording him with every sentence she spoke. I do have a name, you know.”

Olivia blinked at him in surprise. “You wish me to … call you Miles?”

“Why not? You’re my sister-in-law, after all, not some toadying governess.”

“Very well, my l … Miles. But you will be pleasant to Perry, won’t you? Even if he doesn’t do things quite as you’d like him to?”

Strickland sighed. “Yes, my dear, I shall smile. I don’t know why you think it necessary to instruct me in how to play with my own children—I have sometimes done so in the past, you know.” He gave her a sardonic look. “I suppose you can’t help thinking of me as some sort of monster, but I assure you, Olivia, that I have managed a smile on one or two occasions.”

“Have you really?” she retorted, breaking into a grin. “That is almost impossible for me to believe.” Laughing, she ran off ahead of him, anticipating quite accurately that his response would be to pelt her with a barrage of snowballs.