Twenty-Two

Everyone slept a little late in the Mainwaring household the following morning, but by ten most of the inhabitants were up and about. Peter had already had his breakfast and was at his studies in the library as if nothing untoward had occurred. Lady Harriet had sent for her abigail and was trying, with the girl’s assistance, to apply a soothing cucumber lotion to her ravaged complexion. Anne was sitting despondently over her coffee in the breakfast room, wondering what she was to do with her now-directionless life. And Jason was awake but unable to lift his throbbing, aching head from the pillow.

Coyne came into the breakfast room (his usual, stolid manner unaffected by the activities of the previous night) to inform Miss Anne that Miss Alexandra de Guis had come to call. Anne told him to send her in. Lexie’s brisk entrance, in her resplendent velvet riding costume, was so exuberantly cheerful that it seemed a reproach to Anne’s depressed spirits. “Where is your abominable cousin?” Lexie demanded without preamble. “He had fixed to ride with me this morning.”

“I’m afraid Jason has met with an accident,” Anne told her.

“An accident?” Lexie turned quite pale. “What happened? Has he been badly hurt?”

“No, no,” Anne hastened to assure her. “He … er … fell against a suit of armor and received a cut on his head. His man tells me that he’s quite all right this morning and is suffering more from the effects of having imbibed too deeply last night than from his injury.”

“Oh, thank goodness!” Lexie sighed in relief and sat down at the table. “May I have some tea? I need something restorative to recover from the shock.”

Anne poured the tea. “I’m sorry you had to miss your ride. If I had known, I would have sent a message to you.”

“Don’t trouble your mind about that. But, Anne, would it be very shocking—and detrimental to my reputation—if I went up to see Jason? I’d like to see for myself the extent of his injury, instead of having to imagine things. My imagination can paint very gruesome pictures sometimes.”

“Yes, I know just what you mean.” Anne rose and went to the door. “Let me ask Mr. Orkle if Jason is in any condition to have company.”

If Anne secretly hoped that Jason would instruct Orkle to send Lexie away, she was doomed to disappointment. Orkle brought word that “’Is lordship’d be delighted,” and Lexie ran eagerly up the stairs. It was more than an hour later when she came down again. Anne discovered her standing in front of the hall mirror, near the door, adjusting her very fetching riding hat.

“Are you leaving, Lexie?” she asked.

“Yes, I may as well,” Lexie said with a frown. She turned from the mirror, and her eye fell on the suit of armor which had been reassembled and stood on silent guard in a corner of the hallway. “So that’s the armor Jason’s been babbling of. He’s as delighted as a child with it. The fellow swears he’s taking it back to America with him.”

“Yes, I heard him say so—but I don’t take it seriously,” Anne said.

Lexie studied Anne carefully. “Didn’t he tell you he plans to leave within the month?”

Anne was startled. “No … he didn’t. I … do you think he means it?”

“Oh, he means it, all right. And I, for one, am utterly chagrined.”

“Are you, Lexie?” Anne asked wonderingly. “I thought …”

There was an awkward pause. Lexie raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Don’t be afraid to speak your mind to me, my dear. What did you think? That I wouldn’t mind Jason’s leaving?”

“No, not that. I hadn’t thought of his leaving at all. I was sure that, now that he is ensconced in the Prince’s circle, he was fixed here. But if he is serious…”

“I’m sure he is.”

“Then … I thought … that you might go with him.”

Lexie smiled bitterly. “I? I’d have been delighted to go, my dear. But you see, I wasn’t asked.”

“Oh,” Anne said, suddenly feeling breathless.

“Did you think he would ask me?” Lexie inquired in wry amusement. “You quite amaze me, Anne. Have you lived with the man in the same house for all these weeks and learned so little about him?”

Anne stared at her. “What do you mean?” she asked in confusion. But before Lexie could frame a reply, there was a knock at the door. Anne turned, irritated at having to interrupt this fascinating conversation, and went to open the door. Captain Wray stood on the threshold. “Good morning, Miss Hartley. Forgive this intrusion so early in the day, but I’ve just come from the Laverstokes. I had promised to take Miss Charity riding this morning, but I found the entire household at sixes and sevens! It seems that Cherry has run off to Gretna Green!”

“Good heavens!” Anne gasped.

“Don’t keep the Captain standing on the doorstep, Anne,” Lexie said smoothly. “Ask the gentleman in.”

“Yes, of course,” Anne murmured, trying to collect her wits. “Do come in, Captain Wray.”

The Captain stepped inside and made a brief bow to Lexie. “Good day, Miss de Guis,” he said with stiff politeness.

“How do you do, Captain Wray,” Lexie said in wicked amusement, extending her hand to be kissed. “It has been a very long time, has it not?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes at him coyly.

But Anne took no notice of the byplay. “Did you say that Cherry had run off? When? And how did the Laverstokes learn of it?”

Captain Wray tore his eyes from the magnificent Lexie and turned back to Anne. “Last night, it seems. Her mother received a message from Cherry this morning. I thought you might be able to tell me something more about it.”

Anne smiled slowly. “The little sly-boots! It didn’t take her very long to act on my suggestion. Thank you for bringing this news to me, Captain. I couldn’t be more delighted!”

“But why?” the Captain asked in confusion. “Do you know who it is she’s run off with? It couldn’t be that stuttering fool who kept following her about, could it?”

“I believe, Captain, that our Cherry has gone off to marry Arthur Claybridge.”

The Captain gaped. “What? Your Arthur Claybridge?”

Lexie gave a merry laugh. “I felicitate you, Anne. You seem to have solved one of your problems very neatly.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” Anne said with dignity, but coloring nevertheless. “The fact that Cherry and Arthur found that they suit each other beautifully has nothing whatever to do with me.”

“I don’t understand any of this,” Captain Wray exclaimed.

“Don’t let it trouble you, my dear,” Lexie said, favoring him with a brilliant smile and taking his arm. “Walk with me to the stables, and I shall explain it all to you.”

“I’d be delighted,” Captain Wray said eagerly.

“Good day, Anne,” Lexie said suavely. “I hope you’ll let me know when you solve your other problem.” With a quick wink for Anne, she turned her attention to her new prey, and, giving him a honeyed smile, she swept him out the door.

Anne had no time to mull over Lexie’s words, for Mr. Orkle came down the stairs to tell her that Jason was asking for her. With a racing pulse and a chest constricted with acute and almost unbearable tension, she tapped on the door of his room. “Come in,” he croaked.

She opened the door timidly and peeped in. The room was shadowed, for the drapes had not been opened, but she could see Jason sitting up in bed, propped up by a number of pillows. He was unshaven, unkempt and pale. A large bandage was tied at an angle over his right temple and around his head, and his right eye was black and swollen. His left eye was bloodshot, and his expression pained. In short, he looked terrible. “Well, don’t stand there starin’ at me like a frightened kitten,” he growled. “Come in.”

She stepped in and shut the door behind her. The sound made him wince. “Are you all right?” she asked in concern.

“I’m as far from ‘all right’ as it is possible to be, ma’am,” he responded sourly. “My head seems to contain all manner of aches and pains, and any little noise makes things worse.”

“Yes, I know. Mr. Orkle explained to me that it is the result of over-indulgence in drink and will soon pass off.”

“Mr. Orkle talks a great deal too much, but he’s quite right. In America, this affliction is called a ‘hangover.’ But I will admit to you, ma’am, that as hangovers go, this one is a jim-dandy. However, let’s not talk about it. Sit down, please. I sent for you because I believe we have some business to discuss which was left over from last night.”

She took the chair beside his bed. “I was not aware of any leftover business,” she said demurely.

‘Oh, weren’t you now!” he said sarcastically. “Listen here, girl, I’ve done with humorin’ you. I’ve followed all your rules. I’ve been so restrained and polite I’ve hardly recognized myself. And all I got for my pains was the sight of you creepin’ off to wed that drearisome Claybridge fellow.”

“Arthur is not drearisome!” Anne said, outraged. “He’s the finest, kindest, best-natured man in the world.”

“Oh, he is, is he? Then why didn’t you run off with him after all?”

“Because …” she confessed, lowering her eyes to her hands, “… he preferred to run off with Cherry instead.”

Jason cocked his good eye at her. “He did? Well, well!” His lips twitched in a very slight smile. “The fellow has more sense that I gave him credit for.”

Anne got to her feet haughtily. “If that’s a slur at me, Jason Hughes—!” she sputtered.

“Oh, sit down,” he commanded, “and don’t raise your voice like that, girl.” He raised a shaky hand to his forehead. “Remember my head!”

She sat down again. “I’m glad your head aches,” she declared maliciously. “You deserve it. And I would be obliged, your lordship, if you’d get to the point. What is this business you wish to discuss with me?”

He gave her a one-sided grin. “I know how your mind works, you know. You think I called you here to apologize for my behavior last night.”

“I don’t think anything of the kind! You are not enough of a gentleman for that.”

“For once you’re right. I have no intention of apologizing.”

“An apology is not at all necessary, my lord,” Anne said with icy dignity. “I realize that you were not yourself.”

“Oh, no, girl, you’re quite wrong there. That excuse won’t wash. I was never more myself than I was last night, and you know it.”

“I don’t know any such thing. You would never have behaved so … so disreputably if you’d been sober.”

“Maybe not, but only because of cowardice. Drink made me brave,” he admitted.

“In England we call it ‘pot-valiant.’ It is not a quality to give one pride.”

“I’m not takin’ any pride in it. Only explaining to you that my behavior was simple honesty. In vino veritas.”

“What nonsense,” she insisted stubbornly. “I don’t believe you even remember anything that passed between us last night!”

“Don’t bet on it, girl. Would you like me to repeat our conversation to you verbatim? I can even do it with gestures!”

She colored to the roots of her hair. “That won’t be necessary, thank you,” she said coldly, rising from her chair. “If you’ll excuse me now, I think I’ve had enough of this conversation.”

“No,” he said, reaching out and grasping her wrist. “Please stay. We haven’t yet discussed our business.”

“What is it you want to discuss?” she asked unyieldingly.

“Sit down, here on the bed where I can see you better.”

Reluctantly, her wrist still held in his iron grip, she sat down on the bed facing him. “Now, then, what is it?”

“I only want to know when you think you’ll be ready to leave.”

“Leave? Leave for where?”

“For America, of course.”

“Jason, what sort of joke is this?”

“You know it’s no joke. I imagine you’ll want us to be married here, with the family and half of London present. I don’t mind waiting for that. How much time do you think you’ll need for all that before we set sail?”

Furiously, she tried to pry her wrist from his grasp. “Will you let me go?” she raged. “I can see now that you can be quite as obnoxious when you’re sober as when you’re drunk!”

He lifted his free hand to his forehead dramatically. “My head!” he moaned, leaning back against the pillows and closing his eyes. “You’re frettin’ my head.”

“And you’re fretting mine! Let go!”

He opened his good eye. “Does this mean you won’t marry me?” he asked innocently.

She stopped her struggle to free her wrist and stared. He was watching her from his one good eye with a rather boyish apprehension, as if his confidence had suddenly collapsed. His poor, bruised face looked so young and vulnerable that her anger disappeared. “Oh, Jason, really!” she said with a reluctant laugh. “Is this the way you propose marriage to a girl?”

His face immediately brightened. “I thought I’d proposed last night,” he said promptly.

“You were drunk last night!” she exclaimed in disgust.

He grinned. “Not so drunk as you think.” He lifted his hand and brushed her cheek with the back of it. “My lovely little fool! Don’t you know that I’ve loved you from the first?”

“Oh, Jason!” she sighed tremulously and cast herself against his chest.

He enveloped her in his arms with a small sigh of contentment. “You haven’t told me, my love,” he said against her hair, “that you—how is it they phrase the question in your English novels?—that you return my very flattering sentiments.”

Hiding her face in his chest, she said shyly, “I do very much return your very flattering sentiments.”

“Enough to come with me to America?” he persisted.

She looked up at him, her smile fading. “Must we go, Jason? Are you sure you cannot like it here?”

“I like it here very much. But I’m an American, my dear. Through and through. There’s a war coming, I’m afraid, and my place is at home.”

She pulled herself away from him and sat up thoughtfully. “But … what about Mama? And Peter?”

“They will be fine. Lady Harriet will be perfectly content to remain just as she is. And Peter will make a distinguished Viscount Mainwaring when he comes of age.”

“You seem to have thought of everything. Do you think I will make a distinguished Mrs. Hughes in a—what sort of abode shall we live in in America? The only habitation I’ve ever heard you mention is a blanket under the sky.”

“I think I may be able to find us a roof to settle under. And you shall make a very distinguished Mrs. Hughes. Believe it or not, before long you’ll be more American than I.”

“Shall I, Jason? Are you sure I shall be suitable? Am I capable of adjusting to … to …?”

“… to such uncivilized customs as we have in the wilderness?” he teased. “Don’t worry your head on that score, love, for you’ll have me at your side to protect you from the wild animals and savage men who come your way. Besides, I’ve always felt that you’re a courageous little chit. Doesn’t your spirited nature tell you that you’ll enjoy the challenge?”

She smiled at him shyly. “Yes, it does. I think … I shall enjoy it enormously …”

He seemed to catch his breath. “Are you really sayin’ that—?”

“I’m saying that I shall be most happy to go to America with you.”

They smiled at each other for a long while. “Do you think,” he asked at last, “that to celebrate this occasion, love, you could bring yourself to lean over and kiss me?” His good eye twinkled mischievously. “Very gingerly, of course. Very gingerly. Remember my head.”

Lady Harriet emerged from her bedroom and searched through the house for her stepdaughter. She was consumed with curiosity about the activities of the night before and could wait no longer for the answers. But Anne was nowhere to be found. Coyne was sure that she had not gone out, but the girl was certainly not in her bedroom, the drawing room or anywhere else Harriet could think of. Finally, Mr. Orkle, being asked if he’d noticed her anywhere, remarked that she’d last been seen going in to visit with his lordship. Lady Harriet promptly made for Jason’s room.

When her light tap on his door was not answered, she sensibly assumed that Jason was asleep and turned away. However, in motherly concern for the condition of his wound, she turned back to take a peep at him. She opened the door and looked in. The room was dimly lit, but there on the bed she could see quite plainly that her stepdaughter and her nephew were locked in a very close, not-at-all-gingerly embrace.

With great presence of mind, she stifled the glad cry which rose in her throat and backed hastily out of the room. She closed the door with silent care. “Oh, my!” she breathed delightedly. “Oh, my!” She had an overwhelming desire to do a jig, right there in the corridor. “I must remain c—” she began to say automatically, but then stopped herself. “Bother with staying calm!” she crowed in gleeful abandon. And in complete disregard of its deleterious effect on her breathing, she went skipping down the hall to break the news to Peter.