aWhat? What, d.a.m.n you, whatas the matter?a aOh no, Marcus, oh no.a Then her back bowed up and she grabbed her belly, all the while crying out, aNo! No! Marcus, please, no, no!a Not even an hour later, just as the clock struck noon, she miscarried, blood gushing out of her, her body twisting and arching with the vicious cramps. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. She lay now in an exhausted sleep, her face shiny with sweat, her hair in a lank, dull braid. Her lips were so pale they were nearly blue. The wound in her flank had bled more, running together with the blood from her womb, and head known she would die, but she hadnat. At least not yet she hadnat.
Marcus said nothing. He simply looked down at her.
aIam sorry, my lord,a Doctor Raven said as he wiped his hands. aI thought it might happen, but I didnat want to worry you more. These things happen all the time, but Iam sorry it had to be this way.a Maggie and Mrs. Emory had cleaned away all signs of the miscarriage. The d.u.c.h.ess at least was clean, all the blood gone and she was just lying there, bloodless, swathed in white, the bandage around her belly white, the cloths between her thighs white, her nightgown white.
aSheall be all right.a But Marcus doubted that very much.
Doctor Raven was pleased he was alone with her. It was the first time her husband had left her, and now she was awake.
He merely smiled at her, waited a moment until recognition came into her very lovely blue eyes, then he leaned over her and gently laid his hand to her chest.
aYour heart is steady and slow. Is there any pain in your belly?a She shook her head.
aIam sorry about the babe, but there will be others, my lady. There is nothing wrong with you. It was the fall, the trauma to your body. I told his lordship that youare young and healthy. Yes, there will be an army of babes if you want them, once youave mended.a She shook her head again. aNo, there wonat be more babes. This was the only one and he wasnat meant to be alive.a Doctor Raven didnat understand her. He gently lifted her hand and closed his eyes as he felt the flutter of her pulse. aPlease, try to relax.a She lay quietly then, her pulse slow, and he saw the tears seeping beneath her closed lashes. She didnat make a single sound.
He heard the firm footsteps and automatically stepped away. Marcus gently dabbed the tears from her cheeks. aShush, love. Itas all right now.a aNo, nothingas all right. Well, for you I guess it is. Everything is now the way you wanted it.a ad.u.c.h.essa"a aI want to kill the man who shot us.a He drew back in surprise, then felt intense relief flow through him. aBut I want to kill him too. How will we resolve this?a She didnat answer him. She was asleep again.
aMy lord.a aYes,a Marcus said as he turned to see Spears in the open doorway.
aI have a message from Badger.a Marcus faced his mother from across the morning-room table. aI didnat know she was pregnant, Marcus. Dear G.o.d, this is all incredible and here I was jesting about it and loving mysteries. Iam a fool. Iam very sorry.a He said nothing, merely played with the doubtless delicious ca.s.serole of whitefish made with white wine and tomatoes that Badger had prepared before head left for London.
aYou impregnated her very quickly.a aYes, probably on our wedding night.a aI donat like this violence, my dear, this wretched continued violence, all directed toward the d.u.c.h.ess, except for this last time. Who was that horrible man trying to kill? You or the d.u.c.h.ess?a aWith so many shots, Iave come to the conclusion that he was shooting at both of us. Of course, the d.u.c.h.ess has been attacked twice already. G.o.d knows.a aSpears told me youad gotten a message from Badger.a Marcus nodded. aHeas on his way back soon. Thereas nothing more he can do there. All the Wyndhams are in London. Ursula was ill with a bad cold and so was that b.l.o.o.d.y dandified Trevor who looks like a centaur riding my stallion, so Lambkin tells me with a dollop of awe in his voice. As for Aunt Wilhelmina, evidently the old bat never went near her sick children for fear of catching something herself. As for James, he was staying with a young man he met their first day in London. He was out in Richmond. Badger rode there to make certain, spoke to one of the grooms and was told that Mr. Wyndham had indeed been there, though the young men had been ripping themselves up with brandy and card playing. So you see, all of them appear to have been there, but Badger couldnat really swear to it. Even if head seen each and every one of them and had witnesses swear to have been with them, it still doesnat mean theyare innocent.a aItas that miserable old hag.a aThat would be nice. As I said, any of them could have hired someone to do it, even that miserable old hag.a Aunt Gweneth came into the breakfast room, kissed her sister-in-lawas offered cheek, smiled at Marcus, and said, aThat Doctor Raven seems a pleasant young man.a Marcus grunted. aHeas young all right.a aWhat does that mean, son?a aIt means Iam a fool. George is good, no matter his b.l.o.o.d.y young age.a aHeas older than you are, Marcus. I asked him. Heas twenty-eight.a aYes, but Iam her husband and he isnat.a His mother grinned at him. aSo, youare a dog in the manger. How very odd, my dear, to see a jealous side to you. I always thought you so above such petty emotions. How refreshing to find you delightfully human.a Marcus forked down a piece of bacon. aI know. I find it odd myself.a He gave his mother a lopsided grin to which she remarked, aThat smile of yours always melted any female heart in the vicinity, even your motheras. Now, tell Gweneth then about what Badger discovered in London.a As he spoke, Aunt Gweneth frowned, the m.u.f.fin in her left hand still untouched. aIt must be something to do with the Wyndham legacy.a aI believed that when the d.u.c.h.ess was struck down in the library and that old book stolen, but now? With so many shots, Auntie, he must have been after both of us. The treasure? Neither the d.u.c.h.ess nor I have the foggiest notion where that wretched treasure is or if it even exists.a aActually,a Patricia Wyndham said, rising from her chair, aI believe I just might have an idea. Iave been thinking about it a good deal, Marcus. Would you please fetch the d.u.c.h.essas drawings for me? Iad like to study them, then weall see.a She beamed at her son and her sister-in-law, and left them motionless and speechless in the breakfast room.
Marcus stared at the pages stacked neatly in her small desk. Head lifted out the drawings shead made of the well and found other pages were beneath them. Sheet after sheet of music and the words written beneath the notes. The words on one sheet caught his eye and he read: a aE ainat the man to shout aPlease, my dear!a
aEas only a lout who shouts aBring me a beer!a
aEas a bonny man wita a bonny la.s.s
Who troves aim a tippler right on ais a.s.s.
And to hove and to trove we go, me boys,
Weall shout as we please till shipas ahoy!a
Then he softly began to sing it, a melody very familiar to him, one every lad in the navy sang over and over again, laughing and toasting one another. Still, he couldnat believe it. The d.u.c.h.ess was R.L. Coots? Shead written all these ditties? He leafed more slowly through them, recognizing nearly all of them. There were at least twenty of them. Beneath the sheets of music were correspondence and legal doc.u.ments. He smiled. Lord, shead made a hefty sum on the more recent ones.
Shead supported herself and Badger. Shead done it alone. She had guts, this wife of his. He felt a spurt of pride that made him go soft inside. Pride and something else, something that was already there, deep and endless, this something that was surely love and he had it bad, no, no escape for him nor did he want to. Perhaps head loved her from the time she was nine years old and head called her the d.u.c.h.ess for the first time. G.o.d, he didnat know, but it was there now, this well of love for her with its unplumbed depths he knew would always be there for him.
Very carefully he returned all the sheets of paper back into the original order. He shut the desk drawer.
She was sleeping soundly, on her side, her hair tumbled around her face and down her back. He saw the even rise of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He remembered his accusations when head gone to Pipwell Cottage. A man had to be keeping her, surely, for she was just a girl, naught more than that, and naturally helpless, as all females were, all of them needing a man to protect them, to support them, to care for them. Shead probably wanted to cosh him, ah, but then shead been the d.u.c.h.ess, the original d.u.c.h.ess who, to protect herself, had simply drawn away into herself and said nothing, just became still and aloof, and terribly and completely alone. That d.u.c.h.ess would never have thrown a saddle at him, struck him with a riding crop, or hit him with her riding boot. Ah, but shead written all these songs, that d.u.c.h.ess who was now his, and different too, because if he riled her sufficiently now, shead likely shoot him.
Shead done it all by herself.
Shead never told him.
As he walked back downstairs, he heard Spears singing in his mind, ditty after ditty in his rich melodious baritone. The sod knew. Badger had told him. Probably even Maggie and Sampson knew. Everyone knew except him.
Why hadnat she told him?
He handed his mother the two drawings then left the Green Cube Room, whistling a ditty that was surely too risqu for a lady to have penned.
He prayed both of them lived a very long time. He wanted every minute of it with her.
28.
BADGER WAS NEARLY frothing at the mouth as he said to Spears, Sampson, and Maggie, aAny of the bleeding b.a.s.t.a.r.ds could have done it, any of them. d.a.m.nation, if they didnat have the guts for it themselves then they hired someone, aye, the miserable scoundrels. That old besomas behind it, you know she is.a aMr. Badger, calm yourself. Anger wonat help us find the truth here. You said it appeared that they all had alibis. Perplexing, most upsetting actually that you couldnat find out anything definitive. It is unsettling for all of us.a Maggie, whoad been studying her thumbnail, said, aMaybe weare looking in the wrong direction. Maybe itas someone right here. What was that manas name in the village? The man who owns that bookstore and is another Wyndham b.a.s.t.a.r.d?a aI donat remember,a Badger said, looking at her thoughtfully. aBut thatas a good idea, Maggie. Iall ride over there this morning and have a very nice little chat with the man.a aYou be careful now, Mr. Badger. He might be a villain. Weare abounding with villains.a He didnat take her words at all lightly. aI will, my dear. Incidentally, that gown youare wearing is most becoming. That shade of pomona green complements your brilliant hair to perfection.a aThank you, Mr. Badger,a she said, giving him a teasing grin.
aI,a Spears said judiciously, awould prefer a soft yellow on you. The green is too overbearing, too certain of itself, it overwhelms. Yes, softer colors would be more the thing on you, Miss Maggie.a Sampson looked at her only briefly and said, aWho cares what color sheas wearing?a Maggie laughed, patted both her glorious hair and her beautiful gown, and took her leave. She said over her shoulder, aSampson is right, you know. Now isnat the time for undue vanity. Iam going to the d.u.c.h.ess now. The poor ladyas feeling restless and bored. Perhaps the earl will let me wash her hair this morning. Heas been hovering over her, treating her like a half-wit, she complains to me, but heas worried and I like to see a man so smitten. Itas about time, I say.a aThe earl,a Spears said, ahas at last realized how very lucky he is. I too am heartened he has finally succ.u.mbed. However, he has also been acting strangely for the past three days. I donat understand it.a Badger said, aYouare looking for a mystery that isnat there, Mr. Spears. Heas just very worried about the d.u.c.h.ess. d.a.m.n, why did she have to miscarry the babe?a aAnother score to settle with the person who shot them, Mr. Badger,a Spears said. aIt deepens her depression. She blames herself, which is ridiculous, but true nonetheless.a aSheas also told his lordship that he now has his way. Heall never have to have a child by her body.a aWhat has he said to that, Mr. Badger?a aI donat know. Both of them have closed down tighter than castles under siege.a Spears said, aTrue, Mr. Badger, but I think thereas even more to it than that, although the miscarriage is more than enough.a aI would say,a Sampson observed, athat the entire staff is dreadfully worried. The countess is very popular with them. As for the earl, his concern for her has brought them to viewing him as a just master and a husband who is on the mend, so to say. Indeed, I feel theyare quite coming to respect him in full-measure, no mean feat that.a aHeas still a bullheaded young man,a Maggie said. aIf Iad had my way, the d.u.c.h.ess would have taken a horse whip to him, not just her boot or a bridle. I have told her I much approve the change in her. Yelling cleanses a womanas innards wonderfully. It readjusts her view of things. A man, as all women know, canat properly listen until his attention is fully engaged. A whip, I say, would do the trick.a Wisely, none of the three gentlemen had a word to say to that.
Spears said finally, aI think Iall have a chat with Mrs. Wyndham. Sheas a dreadfully smart lady, that one.a Spears found Patricia Wyndham lying on her back on the pale blue Aubusson carpet in the middle of the Green Cube Room, staring at the ceiling. She was utterly immobile, and for one horrible moment, Spears was certain she was dead.
aMadam!a She slowly turned her head and smiled. ah.e.l.lo, Spears. Come help me up. I do hope the carpet is clean, but certainly it is. Mrs. Emory is a household tyrant. There, thank you, Spears.a She dusted off her skirts, shook them out, then beamed up at him again.
aMay I inquire what you were doing lying supine on the floor, madam?a aYou may, but I shanat tell you, at least not yet, Spears. Where is my son?a aHis lordship is probably giving orders to the d.u.c.h.ess, or to Maggie regarding the d.u.c.h.ess.a aHeas such a sweet lad,a she said.
That brought a choking sound from Spearsas throat. a aSweeta isnat exactly an epithet Iad attach to his lordship. I, er, wished to ask you, madam, if you had any notion of who is responsible for all this misery weare having.a aI canat know everything, Spears.a aDo you know anything, madam?a aOh yes, I know quite a bit more than just anything. Indeed, perhaps soon now, Iall be able to clear at least some of this mystery up.a aI see, madam. Perhaps youad like to have a judicious ear to pour some of your opinions into?a aYours, to be exact?a aExactly so, madam.a aNot yet, Spears. Forgive me, Iam not being coy, Iam just not quite ready. Untidy strings that donat weave themselves into the fabric, you understand? Now, I believe Iall see how my darling boy is doing with the d.u.c.h.ess. Poor girl, losing the babe has really pulled her down.a Not to mention being shot, Spears thought, but didnat say anything.
Her darling boy was yelling at the top of his lungs, his fond mother realized while she was still twenty feet from the d.u.c.h.essas bedchamber. She opened the door to see the d.u.c.h.ess standing beside the bed, holding on to the cherub-carved bedpost and looking quite limp.
aMarcus,a the d.u.c.h.ess said, a goodly dollop of temper in her voice that pleased her mother-in-law, astop your shouting. For heavenas sake, Iam all right.a aYou swore to me youad stay in bed, d.a.m.n you. Just look at you, white around the gills, sweating like a stoat, and out of breath and bed.a aMy dears,a Patricia Wyndham said, sweeping into the bedchamber, athis is surely not good for the d.u.c.h.essas nerves. Heas right, however, my dear, whatever made you get out of that very comfortable bed?a aI knew youad side with him.a aTrue, but whatas a mother to do?a aShe was relieving herself, Mother. She actually thought to get out of bed, walk all of fifteen feet to the screen, and use the chamber pot. I wonat have it, do you hear me, d.u.c.h.ess? Now, youare getting back into that bed this minute.a aYes, Marcus, I know. I was on my way back to the bed when you burst in here and started screeching like a crazed owl.a aCrazed owl? Good G.o.d, even your mental works arenat functioning properly. You mean youave already used the chamber pot?a aYes, Marcus, and I even managed to walk back to the bed all by myself.a Patricia Wyndham cleared her throat. aThis is doubtless fascinating, children, but all this talk of the chamber pot can surely wait. Come, d.u.c.h.ess, Iall help you.a aYou just stay put, Mother.a He very carefully angled the d.u.c.h.ess so he wouldnat touch her side, lifted her some two inches off the floor, and carried her the remaining three feet to the bed.
Once head gotten her into bed again, on her back now for the pain in her side had lessened quite a bit during the past four days, he said, aThere, now donat move or it will go badly for you.a aThat sounds quite intriguing. Just what will you do, Marcus?a aSounding a bit testy, are we? As to what Iall do, I donat know, but whatever it is, you will like it immensely, and so will I.a aI hardly think thatas a threat to convince me to obey you.a aMy dears, surely you donat wish to contemplate marital themes just now? No, certainly not. Such subjects arenat best fashioned for a motheras tender ears. You, my darling son, are still my little boy, thus, you are bathed in sunlight and purity. Yes, at last youare both quiet. Badger told me to inform you that heas sending up luncheon. Shall we all dine together and enjoy a comfortable prose?a aGood G.o.d, Mama, a comfortable what?a aProse, my dear. Ladies of more advanced years speak in that fashion, you know. Itas soothing.a aBosh,a Marcus said, and pulled out a delicate French chair from the last century for his mother. aYouare about as advanced as that hussy maid of the d.u.c.h.essas.a aAh, Maggie. Isnat she an interesting sort?a Spears said from the doorway, aPerhaps Madam will be so kind as to tell her son why she was lying on her back in the middle of the Aubusson carpet in the Green Cube Room?a aI would have expected a minimal degree of discretion from you, Spears. You have gravely disappointed me. No, Marcus, my body positions donat concern any of you at the moment.a aBosh,a Marcus said again, looking hara.s.sed. aWhat the h.e.l.l were you doing on your back? Some new meditation?a aMy dear boy, itas none of your business.a The d.u.c.h.ess laughed. aAh, thank you, maaam. Youave diverted his fire away from me.a His blue eyes came again to rest on her pale face. He leaned down and kissed her mouth. aIf you eat your luncheon, nap awhile, then Iall allow Maggie to wash your hair.a aWhat about the rest of me?a aIall wash the rest of you.a aNo, Marcus, no, you canat, Ia"a aBe quiet, d.u.c.h.ess.a Patricia Wyndham rolled her eyes. aSo much for my sunlight-pure boy.a She knew he would be thorough. Marcus never did anything in half measures. As for the wound in her side, she knew he wouldnat hurt her, that head be gentle as a sliver of sunlight through the summer maple branches. But she couldnat help but be embarra.s.sed because she was still bleeding and there were cloths between her thighs. Perhaps he would leave that part of her alone. He did begin well enough, treating her as head treat a stick of wood or a doork.n.o.b, but when head uncovered her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, all his good intentions began to unravel. His fists clenched, his mouth tightened, and his beautiful blue eyes darkened.
aIad forgotten how utterly acceptable you are. That is, Iave dressed and undressed you, looked at you and held you, wiped you down with icy water, but itas different now. Youare better and youare looking at me while Iam looking at you. Itas unnerving. Now, donat move, Iall try to keep my hands on the straight and narrow, wherever that could possibly be since your body is nothing but delight for me.a He didnat manage to find any sort of straight and narrow, of course, but he did try, and when he was lightly washing her belly, carefully avoiding her bandaged side, he drew in his breath, closed his eyes, and went lower with the soapy washcloth.
aPlease donat, Marcus. Itas very embarra.s.sing for me and I donata"a He ignored her. aIt doesnat bother me at all that youare bleeding. Thank G.o.d itas normal bleeding, and I donat have to worry that youall die on me. No, just be quiet, d.u.c.h.ess, and trust me.a He looked at her face as he spoke, saw the shifting expressions even as his fingers found her. Head meant to wash her, nothing more, truly, head not thought about anything remotely s.e.xual, surely, well, all things s.e.xual head thought about were spiritual, or perhaps they were just s.e.xual themes in the abstract, theories, nothing more, but his fingers were on her and his eyes were looking at her and his hand was shaking.
It had been a long time, too long a time. He became aware that her breathing had changed, had quickened. Her eyes were wide and questioning on his face, her cheeks flushed. He smiled at her and thought, Why not? His fingers gently molded themselves to her flesh, but still, at first, her soft flesh was unwilling, but he was patient and he loved her and wanted to give her pleasure. Theread been so much pain for her, too much d.a.m.ned pain, why not pleasure, just for this once?
Finally, when she tensed, her back arching, he came up beside her and kissed her until she cried out her release into his mouth.
aOh dear.a aHold still, d.u.c.h.ess. I still have your lovely legs and feet to wash.a Once done with a bath the likes of which shead never imagined in her life, he folded clean cloths and pressed them against her, then dressed her in a clean nightgown.
aStop looking at me as if I were a brute. Iam your husband. Your body is mine and Iall thank you not to forget it. I wouldnat ever allow George Raven to touch you like this, to look at you with l.u.s.t as I do. Just me and always just me. So donat be embarra.s.sed. I forbid it.a aItas difficult, Marcus. I trust you, I surely do. Youare my husband, but Iave always been so private and surely things that are only female should be kept private.a aNo, thatas silly. Obviously you donat trust me enough. I know what Iam talking about. Now, youave got some color in your cheeks, no doubt from the pleasure I just gave you.a He paused, tossed the towels and other clothes on the floor, then turned back to her, suddenly serious, his expression very intent.
He looked down at his hands as he said, aActually, d.u.c.h.ess, as my wife, you should tell me everything you feel, everything you think. You donat have to keep anything from me, be it physical or something youave done. Not any more. Not ever again. You can even continue to yell at me, to hit me, whenever I unwittingly chance to say something you dislike.a To his horrified surprise, she began to cry. She didnat make a sound, just let the tears gather, pool in her eyes, and slip down her cheeks.
aAh, sweetheart, donat cry, please donat.a She turned her face away from him. He saw her hands had fisted on the covers at her chest. He reached out his hand to touch her, then drew it back.
aYou know,a he said finally, his voice deep and calm, aIave been a great fool, perhaps so great a fool that even you wonat be able to forgive me this time. And I know youave forgiven me more times than I can begin to count since we were both children.a He had her attention, he saw it in the lines of her body, tensing now, alert, waiting, but she didnat turn back to face him, just waited, and he knew she was afraid, and he understood that well enough.
aIn Paris I was ready to strangle you I was so furious at you for taking matters into your own hands, for taking away my choices, and here I was the brave man, the man who was enjoying his rage, his bitterness, wallowing in self-pity. Thereas just something about being a man and having a woman take away control, it makes all of us a bit crazed, unreasonable, perhaps even irrational, though a man hesitates to believe such a thing about himself.
aYouave always known, d.u.c.h.ess, that Iam quick to anger and say things that curdle even my own blood when I remember them later. I know Iave said things to you that have hurt you unbearably. Iave spoken like a fool and then proceeded to believe what Iad said to you.
aI wounded you deliberately because you were your fatheras daughter and G.o.d knows I still detest that old b.a.s.t.a.r.d for what he did, not only to me but to you as well. And so I punished you because he was dead and beyond anything I could do to him.
aTry to forgive me just once more . . . well, itas bound to be dozens more times in our future together if youall have compa.s.sion for your fool of a husband. Have babies with me. Letas fill Chase Parkas nursery with babes, and you remember how large that nursery is. Our children, just yours and mine, and your father be d.a.m.ned for his own bitterness, for his own despair, for he has nothing to do with us now, nothing to do with our children, with our future.a She turned slowly to face him. She raised her hand to lightly touch her fingertips to his cheek. aDo you really want to have an heir? A boy child who will be the future earl of Chase, a boy child who will carry my blood and your blood and thus my fatheras blood?a aYes. And he must have brothers and sisters.a aBut why, Marcus? Is it because you feel pity for me since I lost my babe? You feel somehow guilty?a aYes, but thatas not the reason.a aWhat is the reason?a aI love you more than I ever imagined a man could love a woman. I want no more distrust between us, no more wariness because youall never know what Iall do next. In the future when I berate you or send curses flying about your head, feel free to cosh me with a fireplace poker. On the other hand, if you pull one of your boots off to hurl at me, Iall be laughing so hard just perhaps youall forget you want to kill me and laugh with me. I love you. Now, does that satisfy you? Do you believe me? Will you forgive me?a For a moment, she was the old d.u.c.h.ess, silent, aloof, looking at him intently, a.s.sessing him, apart from him, and he hated it. He realized how much he wanted her to scream at him if she wanted to, that or kiss him and tell him he was wonderful, but at least now, at this moment, she was utterly silent, just like she used to be.
aIall even let that d.a.m.ned young George Raven bring our children into the world, though I distrust him and his motives when heas with you. Now, stop being the old d.u.c.h.ess. Hit me. Yell at me.a aAll right.a She raised her hand, palm flat.
He eyed her, took her hand in his and drew it back down. He leaned down and kissed her very lightly on her mouth. aAll right what?a he asked, his breath warm on her mouth.
aIall hit you next Wednesday, yell at you on Friday, but right now, Marcus, tell me again.a aI love you and I still distrust George Raven. We will have to find him a wife. It will divert his l.u.s.t from you.a She laughed and he felt intense heady warmth spread like brandy to his belly, or was it his heart?
aAnd I you, Marcus. Iave probably loved you since I was too young to even know what it was. I deceived you into marriage not just because I knew I had to put things right after what my father had done, but because I wanted you for myself. You were so angry, I didnat think youad ever change. I had to do something, Marcus, so that the Colonial Wyndhams didnat get what was rightfully yours.a aRightfully ours. Rightfully our sonas and his sonas son and on it goes far into the future.a aYes. Oh yes. Please understand. I couldnat let you not have what was yours.a aAnd when you came to me on our wedding night? Was it just to keep me from going off like a maniac and annulling our marriage out of misguided spite?a aYes, but perhaps not all. I didnat know what happened between men and women so I had no idea how wonderful it could be with you. It was probably more that than any other motive, but itas true. I was so dreadfully afraid youad do something stupid that I came to you.a aAnd now why would you come to me and seduce me?a aTo drive you mad with l.u.s.t, even madder with l.u.s.t than George Raven, poor man. There is still a lot that I have to learn, Marcus.a aWhen youare healed, when youare laughing and dancing about again, Iall be the most attentive teacher in all of Yorkshire, h.e.l.l, in all of England.a She smiled at him, a smile free of pain, a smile free of heartbreak, a smile filled with delight.
aDo you remember, I told you before that I want you to tell me everything now, all right?a He gave her a sideways look. aReally, d.u.c.h.ess, no matter what it is, you can tell me. There should be no secrets between us, not ever, as of this moment, all right?a She c.o.c.ked her head at him. She didnat say anything, just stroked her fingers over his face again, and he wondered if she would ever tell him about her songs and her outrageous pseudonym. R.L. Cootsa"wherever did she get that absurd name?
Ah, but Mr. R.L. Coots wasnat important, just she was, and Mr. Coots would come out sometime in the future, Marcus didnat care when. But he would have liked to tell her how very proud he was of her. He quickly dismissed it as he kissed her not just once, but again and again, showing her how much he loved her, trying to give more of himself to her, and she smiled with relish when he whispered what he was going to do to her when she was well again.
29.
IT WAS THE d.u.c.h.ess who next saw her mother-in-law lying flat on her back on the floor in the middle of the Green Cube Room, just staring upward. She didnat say anything for a long time, just watched her look upward as if entranced with the ceiling. Then she too looked upward. The Green Cube Room was the only room in the entire house with a painted ceiling, actually groupings of paintings, all done it seemed by the same artist, all the scenes stretched out between the thick painted ceiling beams. Shead looked at these paintings since she was nine years old, particularly the Medieval ones. Shead thought them interesting, but shead paid them little attention for they were just there, just a part of the house, a part of this odd chamber.
Patricia Wyndham was staring up at a small grouping or series of paintings, most of them scenes from village life in Medieval times. The paints had faded over the centuries but they were still vibrant enough to admire and study. She was even staring up at the d.u.c.h.essas favorite series of Medieval scenes, the first one depicting a beautiful young maiden surrounded by her servants, all gowned in flowing white, a white wimple, high and conical with a pointed top balanced on her head, her pale angelas hair cascading down her back. She was seated atop what appeared to be a stone fence, leaning forward slightly, listening to a young gallant who sat at her feet playing a lute. The d.u.c.h.ess had always fancied she could almost hear the sounds coming from that lute, so spellbound did the maiden appear. She looked at the next scene, this one similar, but the young gallant was standing in this one and reaching upward to pluck something that seemed to be hidden in the thick branches of an oak tree. What was he reaching for?
She looked down and saw that her mother-in-law was still in rapt contemplation of the ceiling and continued her own perusal. In the third scene, a servant was handing the maiden a cup of water and the d.u.c.h.ess saw now that the maiden hadnat been seated on a stone fence, no, it was the ledge of the top of a well. The young man had pulled a lute from the branches of the oak tree. A lute in an oak tree?
Suddenly she froze. Her heart began to pound. Oh no, was it possible? She shook her head, then stared upward again. In the next scene, the young man was holding both lutes, one in each hand, and he was still smiling at the maiden, as if he were offering her one of the lutes, his attention still firmly fixed on her. In the next scene, he was still holding the lutes, but now he was looking over his shoulder. Someone was evidently there and the young man looked frightened. Head taken the slender necks of both lutes and pressed the instruments together, back-to-back, holding them in one hand. A lute was perfectly flat on one side and bulged out on the other. Why, then, didnat he press the two flat sides together? Why the pregnant sides? It was awkward and difficult to hold them that way.
ah.e.l.lo, my dear. I trust youare feeling up to snuff now? Of a certainty you are, else my sweet son wouldnat have allowed you to wander about alone. Iam looking at the ceiling. When I first visited Chase Park so many years ago, I was drawn to this room because of the paintings. So many of them, beginning with scenes from the Conqueroras time and moving up into the early years of the sixteenth century. In truth it was those last scenes that particularly fascinated me, for in some of them are my brave Mary, Queen of Scots, so stouthearted, so n.o.ble in the face of so much betrayal. You see there are no paintings of her beyond a child, so the artist must have stopped around 1550. But then I realized, just three days ago, that there was more to the paintings than just the artistas renderings of historical times. Have you seen it yet, d.u.c.h.ess? Ah, yes, I see that you do. Amazing, isnat it?a The d.u.c.h.ess jumped, then looked down at her mother-in-law, who was still flat on her back. aItas easier to see everything from here. Come down, d.u.c.h.ess, and Iall show you.a The d.u.c.h.ess stretched out on her back next to her mother-in-law. aNow, my dear, tell me what you see.a aThe maiden is sitting on the rim of the well and the oak tree is overhead. Just like the clues. Now, what about the Ja.n.u.s-faced nines and the monster?a aThe nine business has bothered me no end. It was just yesterday that I realized the truth of the matter. Look at the lutes, d.u.c.h.ess.a aYes, the lutes. I was just wondering why he was holding them back-to-back, surely difficult since theyare so fat.a aThink about music, my dear, think about what you would have if the young man were holding them facing each other.a aOh goodness, itas not about nines, itas about music! Those are the nines, the Ja.n.u.s-faced nines.a aI believe so. Iave played the pianoforte all my life and I swear to you this is the first time I am truly thankful that my mama forced me to read more music than to dance in the moonlight, which I was finally able to do with Marcusas father, that wonderful man. Do you know music, d.u.c.h.ess?a aYes,a she said, so excited she could barely speak, aholding the lutes that way doesnat refer to nines, but to ba.s.s clefs, back-to-back ba.s.s clefs. Oh goodness, they look like nines. Iave looked at these paintings since I was a child, yet Iave never really looked, if you know what I mean. Even after knowing the clues, it simply never occurred to me that these paintingsa"oh goodness.a aYes, indeed. The paintings are so familiar to everyone, but they were painted for a reason, at least these Medieval scenes were. Now, look at the next scene. The young man is looking at someone, someone who frightens hima"a aThe monster.a aYes, the monster,a Patricia Wyndham said with a good deal of satisfaction. aThe young man is now pointing to the lute. At what, I wonder?a aThe ba.s.s clef, thatas what heas trying to tell us. See, heas pointing into the lower tree branches, then at the second lute. Ah, maaam, weave been so very blind. The clues were here all the time, here for centuries, yet no one has ever thought, ever dreamed, except you, maaam. I believe youare quite the smartest person I know.a aThank you, dear child, but we donat have that wretched treasure yet.a aMay I inquire what you, d.u.c.h.ess, and you, Mrs. Wyndham, are doing on your backs on the newly swept Aubusson carpet?a aYes, Spears, you certainly may. Come here and lie beside me and look up. You, my dear man, are in for a revelation. You asked me if I knew anything and yes, I most definitely know something now, as does the d.u.c.h.ess.a Some ten minutes later Badger looked into The Green Cube Room, looking for Mr. Spears. He blinked. Mr. Spears, the d.u.c.h.ess, and Mrs. Wyndham were stretched out on their backs, all staring up at the ceiling. Esmee, the earlas cat, was sprawled atop Spearsas chest, quite at her ease.
aWhat in the name of the devil and all his minions is going on here?a aMr. Badger, just excellent. Mrs. Wyndham doesnat know everything, but sheas very close. Come here and lie beside me, and weall tell you.a When Marcus strolled by a few moments later, looking for his wife, he heard Spears saying, aBut who is the monster?a He looked into the Green Cube Room and stared. The d.u.c.h.ess said without moving, aMarcus, do come here. Weave nearly got the Wyndham treasure solved. Come and lie here beside me.a He obliged her and stared up at the paintings. aGood G.o.d. Iave looked at all those scenes over the years, admired them and the brilliance of the paint, the skill of the artist or artists, but I never really looked at them, never even thought toa"a aI know,a the d.u.c.h.ess said. aMe neither. Even if wead known about the Wyndham treasure, I doubt wead have connected it up with these paintings. But your mama did. Thatas why she was lying here three days ago. She realized there just might be a connection between the treasure clues and these paintings. Do you know how old this room is, Marcus?a aWeare in the oldest part of the house. I believe the Green Cube Room was one of just a handful left standing after the fire early in the last century.a aActually, my dear son, I just read all the journals left by Arthur Wyndham, who was then the third Viscount Barresford. The most G.o.d-awful boring accounts of his life you can imagine, but he was informative in the third diary. The fire was in 1723 and most of the Elizabethan manor was destroyed, all except for the Green Cube Room and the library, where you found the tome. They were literally the only rooms in this entire wing that held together. Arthur Wyndham said that distinctly. He wrote in his diary: aI have only the Green Cube Room and my library left and even they are so blackened with smoke I wonder if they will ever be as they were again. Although they have never been to my liking, they did survive and thus Iall return them to what they were.a aArthur Wyndham also wrote that his father and his grandfather had both admired the paintings on the ceilings and so he had them restored. Thank G.o.d he was a sensitive man, else all would have been lost.a Marcus said thoughtfully, aWhy is it called the Green Cube Room? I remember wondering as a child and even asking, but no one knew, not even my uncle.a aI asked too,a the d.u.c.h.ess said, coming up onto her elbow, felt the pulling in her side and quickly lay back down again. aNo one knew. Sampson suggested it might refer to the old panes of gla.s.s in the windows. He believed it likely the windows were mullioned and perhaps set with green squares of gla.s.s.a aYes, green gla.s.s, that would be it.a This was from Maggie, who was sitting with her hands wrapped around her knees behind Spears. aThereas something else. The room itselfa"donat you see? Itas perfectly square.a aAh,a said Badger. aWhen the sun shines through the green gla.s.s into a perfectly square room thena"a aYes, youad have an illusion of a green cube, Mr. Badger,a Spears said. aColored gla.s.s was quite popular years ago.a aThat could be it,a Patricia Wyndham said. aAll old houses have rooms named the oddest things, like the Presence Chamber at Hardwick Hall, a grand room thatas so cold you shiver the whole time youare in it.a aYes,a Badger said. aThatas from a ghost, no doubt.a aThen thereas the Dial Room at Old Place Lindfielda"I havenat the foggiest notion where they got that namea"then thereas the Punch Room at Cotehele House, where, I suppose, gentlemen imbibed liberally.a aYes,a Marcus said. aI think Maggieas right. Sheas solved the key to the name of this room.a aAh, look, Mr. Spears,a Badger said, pointing straight upward, aI see the well clearly now, and if Iam not mistaken thereas your bucket, d.u.c.h.ess, wood and bound in leather. But whereas that d.a.m.nable monster?a aOffstage, to the left, or nowhere at all,a Marcus said. aIave studied the rest of the scenes and thereas no horn-headed beast, no vile green gargoyle, nothing at all.a aOh thereas a monster, all right,a the d.u.c.h.ess said. aHeas there, even though we canat see him. I can feel him, canat you? Just look at the young manas face in that final scene. He knows something awful is about to happen. It has to be the monster.a aSo,a Patricia Wyndham said, ain the first scene, our maiden is sitting on the edge of the well. The young man is playing his lute for her. He fetches another lute from the oak branches overhead. He then presses the lutes together and weave got our Ja.n.u.s-faced nines or Ja.n.u.s-faced ba.s.s clefs, and as the d.u.c.h.ess says, the monsteras there, just not seen by us. That takes care of all the clues.a aDoes it cover everything in your dream, d.u.c.h.ess?a Marcus lightly stroked his fingertips over her arm.
aI believe so,a she said, giving him a smile that made her mother-in-law momentarily forget the clues and the treasure and stare at them with delight and relief.
aThat treacherous monk in my dream, or whatever it was, even hinted that the Ja.n.u.s-faced nines werenat necessarily nines.a aSo much roundabout flummery,a Patricia Wyndham said. aWhy didnat they just give the treasure over to Lockridge Wyndham? So much nonsense and convolution and confusion. No wonder none of the succeeding generations of Wyndhams found a thing, and even forgot about it.a aI daresay, madam,a Spears said, athat the monks werenat alone in determining the disposal of the treasure. The Wyndham ancestor was certainly involved in hiding it, in providing clues to its whereabouts. Obviously he couldnat show himself with sudden boundless wealth or the king and Cromwell would have heard of it. Given the uncertainty of the times, they would have most certainly removed the treasure, and quite probably his head along with it.a aIall wager,a Badger said, athat old Lockridge Wyndham died before he could tell his children where the treasure was. Surely they must have known about it. It just got lost in succeeding generations.a aAnd the monks wrote two separate books about it,a Marcus said. aOne of them doubtless given to Lockridge Wyndham and the other given to whom? Weall never know. At least it did end up with Burgess.a aOthers read it probably but didnat realize what it was meant to say,a Maggie said. aNow, this is all well and good and a b.l.o.o.d.y wonderful history lesson, Mr. Spears, but whereas the Wyndham treasure?a aThere must be a small hidden s.p.a.ce,a Marcus said. aThat small s.p.a.ce, my friends, must somehow be attached to this room. Of course, we havenat a single clue what the treasure actually is.a aOr the treasure could be above the room,a Badger said. He pointed upward. aThe clue was to reach overhead for the nines, which the young man did. Then thereas the well, and thatas where the monster is, and perhaps the treasure.a aBut a well goes down, not up,a Patricia Wyndham said.
aThen,a the d.u.c.h.ess said, rising to her feet, unconsciously holding her side, athe hidden room or s.p.a.ce is directly below the oak tree and the well, under the floor.a aNot quite,a Patricia Wyndham said. aTo be precise, and I believe that precision is quite the key here, we must look right beneath those Ja.n.u.s-faced nines.a aGood G.o.d,a Marcus said. aSampson, fetch Horatio.a aOh yes, Mr. Sampson, do hurry,a Maggie said. aIam so keen to find the b.l.o.o.d.y treasure.a The Aubusson carpet was rolled neatly against the far side of the room. All the furniture was moved away from a large area right below the Medieval paintings. Horatio, a carpenter with magic in his hands, was on his knees, his ear close to the wooden floor, lightly tapping his hammer. Suddenly, he raised his head and grinned, showing a wide s.p.a.ce between his two front teeth. aMalord, thereas no support beam running all along here. I think Iave found the empty s.p.a.ce.a He carefully began prying up the thick wooden strips of oak. Maggie was fidgeting, wanting him to hurry, cursing him and his persnickety ways. Who cared about the d.a.m.ned floor, who cared if it got scratched, wasnat it covered with that huge old carpet anyway? But Spears shushed her, saying, aPerhaps you could accelerate your hammeras momentum just a bit more, Horatio. It isnat a sacred burial mound youare digging up, after all.a It broke the tension, but just for a moment.
aNow, now, Iave got to go easy. I donat want to splinter this old wood. Ah, yes, there it comes up, all clean and tidy.a aQuickly,a Patricia Wyndham said. aBring candles, Sampson!a The s.p.a.ce was made large enough for a man to ease down through the opening, which Marcus did, since he was the earl, though there was much grumbling, particularly from the women. aItas filthy and black down here, Mother, youad hate it. There are more spiders than you can imagine. And you, Maggie, you would have ripped your gown for certain and gotten nasty spiderwebs in your hair. As for you, d.u.c.h.ess, you just keep your mouth shut. Youare not well enough yet to fight with all the myriad gloom and bugs down here. Maggie, hand me down a branch of candles. I canat see a b.l.o.o.d.y thing with just one.a Then there was silence.
aDo you see anything, Marcus?a He looked up briefly to see his wifeas face peering down into the dark s.p.a.ce.
aSon, speak up, or do you want your old mother to expire from unrequited silence?a The s.p.a.ce was long and narrow, but very confined, not more than four feet high. He had to bend over almost double. The s.p.a.ce seemed to stretch on endlessly, perhaps the entire length of the Green Cube Room. He held up the candles and clearly saw the floor beams. There didnat seem to be anything else, just blackness, choking dust, spiders, and enough cobwebs to smother a battalion. He continued searching, hunched over like an old man. Then the s.p.a.ce ended after about twenty feet, obviously at the end of the Green Cube Room above. There was something leaning against a wall. The something wasnat a treasure chest. He drew closer, holding the branch of candles out in front of him. He drew to a startled stop before it. He called out even as he choked on the airless dust, aOh my G.o.d, what the h.e.l.l is this? A skeleton, yes, so it appears, but howas that possible?a Marcus held the candle closer and drew a deep breath. It wasnat a skeleton, but rather a dummy, a figure probably stuffed with moldy old straw, a man to be hung in effigy, for there was a rope around his neck and the rope was drawn up tight and nailed over the dummyas head to the beam above it. The figure was dressed in fancy clothes from Elizabethan times. Marcus lightly touched the lace on a sleeve and it fell into dust. He held the branch of candles closer. The cloth face had been carefully painted: there was greed and avarice and cruelty on that stingy, heavy face, and dissipation and utter arrogance in those gla.s.s eyes staring sightlessly up at him.
He realized with a jolt that it was the king himself, Henry VIIIth, his face very much like the portrait painted of him by Holbein, only a bit younger. Marcus thought idly that it had taken a lot of straw stuffed in the frame to fill up the kingas stout body. But why here? Hidden away?
He heard voices above him, all of them demanding, yelling, calling out, even the d.u.c.h.essas voice, and she sounded very testy. He grinned, saying, aThe skeleton is really a man probably stuffed with straw, Henry the Eighth to be exact, all ready to hang in effigy with a rope around its neck. Just a moment, thereas more. Hold on.a It was at that moment he realized the fat figure, all outfitted in purple velvet and ermine and a ruff that was wider than a wagon wheel around the fat neck, was too fat. It wasnat stuffed with straw. No, it was stuffed with something else. He gently reached inside an opening above the ruff at the neck and pulled out a long string of the most exquisite pearls head ever seen. He pressed his hands against the rotting material and felt the shape of more jewels, coins, even several outlines of rosaries, a scepter. His fingers made out the curve of a gold-coin plate and a chalice. There was also the heavy outline of a book, probably the Bible, its cover no doubt embedded with jewels. There were most likely other precious Church relics as well stuffed in that body. It wasnat moldy straw, it was the treasure from St. Swaleas Abbey and it had been here stuffed in that fat figure of King Henry VIIIth for well over three hundred years.
aI think, Spears,a he called up, athat you need to send down some sort of long flat stretcher with ropes attached so we can pull it up. Itas very heavy, so make the ropes and board stout. Our dummy here is stuffed with treasure, a veritable kingas ransom in treasure.a
30.
aDO YOU HAVE any idea how deliciously decadent you look?a She just grinned up at him, the luminous loop of pearls around her neck, dipping down past her navel to rest on her white belly. She wasnat wearing anything else, her husband having insisted that with the pearls lying on her flesha"ah, nothing more was necessary. She was, he told her now, to consider it his birthday present to her, perhaps for the next three years, so grand were the pearls.
aYes, I know you think me wonderful, and I am. I found out from Aunt Gweneth that your birthdayas in September, just around the corner.a aAnd I found out from f.a.n.n.y that your birthday is in early October. Just perhaps Iall manage to find a fitting bit of jewelry for you to wear. Ah, about dear f.a.n.n.y, I believe sheas making you something very special for your birthday, Marcus.a aSheall get over this infatuation with me, or perhaps sheall go to her grave an old doddering woman still carrying a worn-out torch for me.a aSheall get over it,a the d.u.c.h.ess said. aJust two more years and both the Twins go to London. Sheall see you then as a drooling old man and dismiss you out of hand. Now, about my birthday. Three years, you say?a aYes, a good three years.a He picked up the pearls over her stomach, looked at them closely and said, aTheyare more luminous now, just for these few minutes on that white belly of yours.a He then bent down, and began kissing her stomach. She tugged at his hair and he raised his head, grinning at her. She said, aVery well, Marcus, Iall dress myself in the pearls again on the fourteenth. I will consider this my first birthday installment. And what shall I have you pose in, Marcus? I know, I want you to wear that incredible ring with the huge ruby.a aNothing else?a aNo.a aWhen did you say your birthday was, d.u.c.h.ess?a aI believe it begins in just about ten minutes. Actually, youave already begun it on my stomach.a He laughed, leaned down and kissed her, and began playing with the rope of pearls. ad.a.m.n,a he said, between kisses, awe will wait until you are perfectly well again. Youare still sore and I hate it, but there it is.a aIam not at all sore. Itas been well over three weeks. Iam perfectly well now, even my side.a He frowned at that, lightly tracing his fingertip over the still pink scar on her flank. He could still see the marks from the thread and remembered all too clearly how George Raven had stuck the needle in her white flesh then pulled it through, again and again. He gulped. The d.u.c.h.ess said, aStop it, Marcus. Itas over. Iam well. We both survived. Your hard head and your hand healed, albeit more quickly than I thought fair.a He shook his head. aYouare right. Itas in the past, thank G.o.d. You may be certain that I will take excellent care of you from now on. As to anything else, sweetheart, weall wait until youare beyond perfectly well. No, donat argue with me, d.u.c.h.ess, though I want you to, just about more than anything, even more than Badgeras splendid Carbonnade of Beef or his very splendid medaillons de veau poches la sauce au Porto.a aHowever do you know that French name with the poached veal?a aMy dear wife, Badger and I did the menus together during your illness.a She gave him a disbelieving look, but could only giggle.
He said, aBy all the G.o.ds, to hear you laugh again. Do you know I want you to want me so much in return that youall burst into tears, swear youall poison me unless I take you right this moment?a When she started to speak, her eyes sparkling, he put his fingers over her mouth and sighed a martyras sigh. aNo, donat do it.a He quickly rose from the bed again and put a good ten feet between them. aNo, Iall just gaze upon you wearing those pearls, and sweat. Perhaps kiss your belly some more, but it hurts, d.u.c.h.ess.a aI hate to see a man sweat, Marcus. Hurting is quite another matter.a aBe quiet, d.u.c.h.ess. No, donat move, just lie there like a courtesan in a sultanas bordello, but I will migrate my mind to other things. Iave a strong mind, I can do it. Iave been thinking that the two chalices, that Bible, and the other Church piecesa"including that relic which is some saintas finger bone, I supposea"should go to Rome. As for the rest of it, it stays here.a aYes,a she said. aI was thinking the same thing. I like what you gave to Maggie too.a aI wonder if sheas lying quite without a st.i.tch on in her room at this moment, wearing only that emerald necklace.a aNo, sheas sitting in front of her mirror brushing her glorious red hair, admiring the emeralds with her coloring. Your mother told me she was wearing her diamond tiara tonight to the dinner table. Ah, and the Twins are in alt over those bracelets you gave them.a aAs for Spears and Badger, I told them they could both retire with the coins that were their share, but they were both quite put out with my suggestion. Spears looked down his nose at me, quite like your father would do to both Mark and Charlie when head caught them in a bit of mischief, and told me that he feared for my well-being were he not to be here to see to things.
aAs for Badger, I fear for our dinner, given his black looks at my well-meant suggestion. He gave me this pursed look, his mouth all puckered like this, and said that such a worthless suggestion wouldnat go unpunished in Heaven. When I asked him what that meant, he said he would think about it.a aThatas quite interesting to be sure; however, enough. Husband, I would like you to put on that ruby ring.a He shook as he looked quickly at her. aIave been amusing you,a he said slowly, so hungry for her that he shook even more, aand all youave done is think lascivious thoughts about my tender self. Just look at you, all draped with those pearls around your b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and now youare lying on your side, and let me tell you, d.u.c.h.ess, that pose is more than wanton, thank the good Lord.a She took his hand and laid it over her breast and said very softly, aMarcus.a He gaped and swallowed with some difficulty and gaped some more. He stared at his hand, hard and large and brown against her smooth white flesh.
aListen to me and cease trying to amuse me. Iam very well now. George said so just this afternoon.a aI wouldnat let him really examine you. He doesnat know, how could he? Heas not a woman.a aNeither do you know and neither are you a woman. However, Iam a woman and I do know. Youall be gentle; even when youare not gentle, itas gentle enough for me, because all I can think about is what youare doing to me and how it makes me feel, and thatas all that matters. Please, Marcus, put on that ring.a He muttered, gave her dark looks, and put on the ring. But she kept after him until he was quite as unclothed as she was, that large ruby sparkling in the late-afternoon sunlight pouring through the window. After that, he played with her pearls, each one of them, and the white flesh beneath each one, and when he came into her he was gentle, perhaps more than head ever been, and the sweetness of it filled her until it changed, becoming more, as it always did, until she couldnat bear it, and then she was in a frenzied place, filled with light and excitement that was unbearable yet she didnat want it to end. He was with her and she knew as she kissed his throat, his shoulder, her hands caressing his back, that he always would be with her.
When the d.u.c.h.ess entered the library the following Friday morning, looking for Marcus, she paused on the threshold, listening to him sing. His voice was a mellow base, not as beautiful as Spearsas, but very nice nonetheless. He was singing the bawdy sailorsa song.
He turned as he finished the last line, and grinned at her. aIsnat that a wonderful ditty?a aItas certainly graphic. The tune is nice, donat you think?a aActually,a he said looking down at his thumbnail, and worrying at it a bit, aI donat much like the tune at all. I was just thinking that I could have done much better. I have a talent, you know, for music, for tunes specifically, especially tunes for bawdy words and verses. I wish I knew the man who writes these songs. We could form a partnership. Itas a pity. These wonderful words and rhymes, and they must be sung with these miserable tunes.a aMiserable! Thatas ridiculous, theyare superb, well, not all of them, but most are quite acceptable, even occasionally exceptional. As for the aSailoras Sh.o.r.e Song,a Iave heard that itas already sung everywhere, that itas popular, nearly beyond popular, and it wonat be forgotten. It will live forever in the Kingas Navy. There, so much for your criticisms, Marcus. Miserable indeed.a aItas not bad, as I said, but I doubt it will be remembered beyond next month, beyond October at the very latest, surely not after my birthday. Why Iave very nearly forgotten it already, particularly the tune.a She picked up a thick tome of Tom Jones that was laid atop a marquetry table, and hurled it at him. He caught it handily, remarking, aGoodness, I hadnat realized that Tom Jones was so heavy. Such a light tale for so many pages. Just like those silly ditties, so very light they are, meaningless really, just brief stupid diversions. And without sharp and bright tunes to make them memorable. Such a pity I donat know the fellow who writes them. Poor thing, trying to survive without the valuable a.s.sistance of such a talent as mine.a She turned red, looked about for another thick book, didnat see one, and began running at him, hopping actually, because she was trying to pull off her left slipper.
She forgot the ribbons. When she looked down and tried to pull the bow free, she succeeded only in knotting the ribbon all the more. She cursed and he laughed. She shrieked at him even as she sat on the floor and began furiously pulling at the b.l.o.o.d.y knot, aYou wretched sod! Those ditties are wonderful! How many do you know, anyway?a He looked down at her there on the floora"utterly enraged, not at all the old d.u.c.h.ess, but his precious new d.u.c.h.ess, and she would surely kill him if she ever got that slipper unknotteda"and he looked back to his thumbnail, saying in a drawling voice and enraging her all the more, aOh, I suspect I know all of them, moreas the pity, since they arenat really all that well done, just sort of well done, barely on the edge of being well done. Yes, I do know all of them.a aThatas impossible, you sod. I know Spears is always singing them, but certainly you canat know more than just a few, not more than five at the very most.a The thumbnail received more concentrated study. He said, aIave been thinking I should go to Hookhams and see if they canat give me this Coots fellowas direction. Being a man, heas probably reasonable and would look at my offer of partnership as a gift from G.o.d. What do you think, d.u.c.h.ess? Ah, that knot is stubborn, isnat it? Do you want me to help you? No? I see, youare going to try the other one. Itas about time. Anger is just fine, but the outlet for it is more important. Without the outlet, what is anger anyway?a Shead switched to the right foot and the bow melted apart in her fingers. She jerked off the slipper, leapt to her feet, and ran right at him.
He was laughing when she began hitting his chest with the slipper, then he gathered her against him, pinning her arms at her sides. He nuzzled the side of her neck, whispering in her ear, aDo you think I should write to this fellow Coots? Inform him that Iall make him a success? Surely heas barely surviving now. What do you think, d.u.c.h.ess?a ad.a.m.n you, what if Coots isnat a man at all? I donat suppose you ever considered that, did you? Not everything thatas creative or original, or, or, clever and imaginative is done by men, you witless sod.a He rubbed his hands up and down her arms, but was careful not to let her free. aBut of course it is, sweetheart. Face it, youare a woman, an above-average woman, a beautiful gracious woman whom I love, but still, just a woman and surely you must recognize that this Coots is a man with a manas talents, woeful though they be with regard to the tunes themselves. But only a man could produce songs that actually were worth something.a She growled, red-faced, utterly furious at him, and he began to laugh. He threw back his head and roared with laughter. Suddenly she became utterly still.
aYou know.a aKnow what?a He laughed harder.
aYou know all about Coots.a aOf course I do, goose.a He stopped laughing, hugged her so tightly against him that her ribs creaked. aLord, Iam very, very proud of you.a aI could have hurt you throwing Tom Jones at you.a aYes, you could have knocked my head off, but you didnat.a aI wish youad stop laughing at me, Marcus.a aI did, just a moment ago. But you deserved it. You should have told me about R. L. Coots and the wonderful success youave gained. You should have told me when I first visited you at Pipwell Cottage and accused you of being kept by a man. Your pride, madam, makes me want to strangle you, that is, if I didnat have the same pride myself. Tell me, is there another song in the works?a aYes,a she said, studying her own thumbnail, abut I seem to be having trouble with the tune. The words are clever, truly, but the tune is floundering.a He looked down at her, cupped her chin in his palm and kissed her, then just looked some more. He was thinking about those pearls and which was more luminous, the pearls or her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.