Friends and Lovers (14 page)

“He is not crooked enough to keep his chicanery to himself.”

“You may be sure he kept it to himself till he got the contract for the mill houses sewn up tight.”

That was not what I referred to. It was the engagement, but I was tired of the subject, so did not correct him. Menrod left me off at the door at home. I thanked him civilly but did not invite him in.

“You’ll want to talk this newspaper business over with your mother. I shall be scanning the morrow’s social page with interest, to learn what decision you come to.”

“Say hello to the children for me.”

“Why don’t you come up sometime and say hello to them yourself?” he countered. “No reason for us to be at odds only because of the legal battle. That was one good piece of advice from your friend.”

“I’ll go up one day, to see how badly you are spoiling them,” I threatened.

“Do.
I
will be happy to spoil you too,” he answered. He tipped his hat, and the carriage lumbered off.

“What happened in town?” Mrs. Pudge asked, before I got my bonnet off.

“I dispensed with Culligan’s services. I must find a new solicitor. I wonder who I should get. I should have asked Menrod.”

“Menrod?” Mrs. Pudge asked, her eyes swelling. “I would as lief send my soul among lions. What deceit has he wrought, to have you talking so foolish? Menrod indeed!”

“He is not so bad.”

“He’s cozened you with his flattering tongue, in other words. Flattering tongues ought to be cut off. His brother, Peter, the same with your poor sister, who’s gone to her watery grave because of him. That pair of lads went astray as soon as they were born. Partaking with adulterers and all the rest of the tricks of heathendom. What about the engagement?”

“I shall inform you, Mrs. Pudge, as soon as I have got it sorted out in my head.”

“In the papers is where you have got to get it sorted out. We’ve had a dozen callers stopping by to congratulate you, while laughing up their sleeves at us.”

“How nice. Where is Mama?”

“She’s washing that old black devil cat of Menrod’s. I threw a bucket of slops on him, and she, the ninny, is washing him, and getting herself scratched to pieces for her trouble. I’ll tell you, that cat is half warlock. He knows to an instant when Lady is let out, and pops up like clockwork to try his charms on her.”

“In the kitchen?” I asked.

“No, I put her out in the yard. I’ll not have her making a mess in my clean kitchen. Pudge just washed my floor.” She crossed her arms over her apron, tilted herself back from the waist at a pugnacious angle to confront me.

“Thank you,” I said, and left her in that uncomfortable attitude. That woman is due for firing. I have caught the bug, from turning off Culligan.

I discussed the matter with my mother, the announcement in the paper, I mean. She thought it best to let it ride for the present, but to our few close friends, we would explain the true state of affairs. Our good friends were not Everett’s close friends, so this was possible. Eventually it would all be forgotten.

“You would not want to embarrass him,” she reminded me.

I did not want to, either. It was remarkably generous of him to offer his services, with nothing in return but my lukewarm thanks.

We had some difficulty finding a new lawyer to represent our case. There is no shortage of them in the city, and no excess of clients, but word of Culligan’s shady dealings had circulated amongst the legal community, giving them all a strong aversion to our cause. I concluded from various comments dropped that the main reason for our rejection was a fear of Menrod’s wrath.

The man we finally persuaded to handle the matter was a Mr. Doyle, a man of good moral reputation, without a clever bone in his body. He would file the necessary papers in Chancery, outline what we had to offer, appear in person at the necessary time, but made perfectly clear he was not interested in any underhanded dealings.

“Neither are we,” I answered hotly, “That is precisely why we turned Culligan off. Menrod was correct to suggest we change our man, don’t you agree, Mama?” I slipped in, to see if the name’s magic might be used for us, rather than against.

“You are on speaking terms with his lordship?” Mr. Doyle enquired with interest.

“Speaking terms?” I asked, laughing lightly. “Good gracious, we are friends and neighbors, as well as connections. This custody business has not interfered with our personal relationship. We see him nearly every day.”

After this slightly misleading statement, Mr. Doyle saw his way clear to handle our case, for a fee no higher than Culligan’s. I regretted we had not gone to him in the first place.

After the main features had been discussed, I asked, “Do you feel it would help the cause at all if I were married to a good, upright citizen?” I wished to discover whether Culligan knew what he was about, or had led me utterly astray.

“Marriage to the right man would help.” He nodded. “You speak, of course, of your fiancé, Mr. Everett. I read it in the papers. May I congratulate you, Miss Harris? It would give you a better chance. The material advantages you could then offer would be vastly increased, would match his lordship’s, even. Good schooling would be provided, and ultimately the children might expect to inherit some part of the estate. It would do you no harm to rush the marriage forward, if you had not planned to do it before the case comes up for hearing.”

“My plans do not include an early marriage, but I daresay the engagement might...”

“Oh, no. An engagement is no more than a prospect. Actualities are what the court is interested in. It is possible that the marriage would never occur, owing to death or accident, or even a change of mind. I know you think the last-named unlikely, but until you are Mrs. Everett in law, the advantages, of the match are in doubt, and will not be taken into consideration.”

“I see.”

“Without the marriage, I must tell you, your chances against what Lord Menrod has to offer are negligible. Everyone deserves to be represented, however, and I will be happy to represent your interests.”

“Thank you.”

“Shall I go forward, on the understanding that you will be Mrs. Everett within the next month or so?”

“No, that is not at all likely.”

“Why not?” he asked, with a flush at his boldness.

“Because I do not plan to marry soon,” I answered unhelpfully.

I feared the case was lost, and felt the accompanying sense of defeat. My spirits were not at all high as we drove home. They rose considerably to see Gwen and Ralph out playing under the great mulberry tree that robs our front windows of light and obstructs our view of the road but is a favorite for all that, as it supplies us with the makings of a tasty cordial. They came pelting toward the carriage as we alit.

“Aunt Althea brought us down,” Gwen said.

“Aunt
Althea?” I asked, startled and displeased at the misnomer.

“She lets us call her Auntie. She is embroidering flowers and birds on my new nightgown. She is a good stitcher.”

A stab of jealousy entered my heart, to realize I was losing the children; they were slipping from me, inch by inch, every day they lived at the Manor. Ralph came up more slowly, always a little shy when he had been away for a while. While Gwen turned to chatter to Mama, Ralph smiled and said hello.

I took his hand to walk toward the house, asking him how he liked his new pony. “Good,” he answered happily. “Uncle Menrod said you are going to come up and see me ride.”

“Yes, I shall come soon.”

“When?”

“One of these days.”

“Today—this afternoon?” he asked.

I pointed out that as he had come to me today, it would not be appropriate for me to visit him. “Not till tomorrow, then,” he said resignedly.

I had no real intention of going at all, but determined on the spot I would, the very next day. If their real aunt was more often about, they would be less likely to call strangers by my title.

No one had told me Mr. Everett was also at the cottage. Dismay struck like a blow when I saw his curled beaver, cane, and gloves in the hallway. My private moments with Ralph were snatched from me. I had to go in and talk to Everett, while Mama, Lady Althea, and Gwen formed another circle. It seemed odd, to find Lady Althea and Mr. Everett conversing so happily when we first entered.

“So here is the young fellow you are at such pains to get under your roof,” Everett said, tousling Ralph’s black head. “You are a lucky boy, know it?”

Ralph backed up a step to escape his rough hands, hid behind my skirts, actually. “How are you enjoying yourself at the Manor, eh?” he went on noisily. A few similar questions followed, all of them unanswered.

“Shy rascal. He is not a moonling, I hope?” Everett asked.

I managed to keep my teeth over my tongue, barely. The others began to join in our talk. Mrs. Pudge grudgingly passed tea. We none of us took much pleasure from the visit, except perhaps Lady Althea, who distributed a deal of noble condescension on Mr. Everett, who accepted it with calm satisfaction, as his due.

“Menrod tells me he has been to Oakdene,” she said, when she had sorted out Everett’s identity. “He has been full of praise for your paintings ever since.”

“I have a few that are worth looking at,” he admitted modestly. “Half a dozen or so Dutch ones his lordship was kind enough to praise to the skies. There’s plenty more he did not see. French and Italian and even some home-brewed English pieces. I have got a dandy Gainsborough room abovestairs, six or eight of his pretty scenes with ladies disporting themselves beneath trees. By jingo, there is one of the women resembles yourself, milady. The Frenchies give their women a more pleasing countenance, I believe,” he rattled on, heedless of any slight. “Your Fragonards and Watteaus are my own particular favorites. I’ve a number of them, a goodly number.”

Lady Althea stared, but I must grant she had the breeding not to smile at his exuberance. “You were in lumber, I believe, before coming to the neighborhood?” she asked politely.

“I was in lumber and lumber is in me, in my blood and bones. My pa was woodcutter for old Lord Magnus. I fair grew up in forests, and when I was a tad older, in the mills, learning how to dress and cure her. There’s tricks in it, like any trade.”

“I'm sure there are. My father, Lord Malgrove, has extensive forests.”

“I know the Malgrove forests very well, but you’ve mostly pine and spruce, you see, which is not good hard wood, not prime stuff. An oak, now, is a noble bit of lumber. Hard as nails, with a dandy grain to her when she’s cut and finished.”

“They are slow to grow, I believe.”

“They’re quality. Quality isn’t got in a fortnight. Like old families, they take generations to achieve their fiber.”

“Our lumber at Malgrove may be inferior, but the family’s antiquity I can vouch for,” she answered. There was an air almost flirtatious about the woman, which surprised me. I had not seen her in a room with a man before, which perhaps accounted for the change. She was more lively, more smiling, used her fine green eyes more strategically than before. This would be the manner she adopted in her pursuit of Menrod.

“It shows in the way you carry yourself,” he answered. “Proud, like a queen.”

She flushed with pleasure. “Thank you, sir. I am most curious about this Gainsborough lady who bears a resemblance to me. Several of my older relatives sat for him. It is possible you have got hold of some of my family’s portraits. Do you know the title of the piece, offhand?”

“I couldn’t tell you that. I know I paid two hundred and fifty for her. I'm not much of a one for names, to tell the truth, unless there is some special significance in it. I know I have the likeness of Miss Priscilla Dunker, for I sold her pa several yards of cherry to line his study, and saw the woman when she was young. She was a looker. Reynolds it is by, not Gainsborough.”

“You must find out the name and let me know.”

“We can go and check it out this minute if you’d care to,” he offered, on the spot. “I could dash you there and back in two whisks of the cat’s tail. You’d not even be late home for your luncheon.”

“Shall we?” she asked, smiling brightly. “Would you care to come with us, Miss Harris? I don’t want you to think I am stealing your beau.”

“Why do you not leave the children with me, and pick them up on your way home?” I suggested instead.

“I would like to see Oakdene,” Gwen stated loudly. “Uncle Menrod said it is stuffed to the roof with treasures.”

“Did he, by Jove?” Everett asked, his chest puffing with joy. “Mighty handsome of him to say so. Come along then, lass, if you’ve a mind to.” He turned aside to Lady Althea to add, “A taking little baggage, the gel, but her brother is backward as a faun.”

“You come with Auntie, then, Gwen,” Lady Althea said.

“And you stay with Auntie Harris, Ralph,” I added, trying to suppress my rage at her stealing my title.

“I will give the old girl a quick tour and be back,” Everett said to me in a secret aside as they went out.

The three of them left, laughing and talking together, such a strangely mismated pair. Mama, Ralph, and I went for a walk through the small lime grove behind the cottage. Mrs. Pudge allowed Lady to accompany us, with many injunctions to protect her, take her up in our arms, if the devil cat from the Manor should appear.

“I saw him crouched on his haunches in the rose garden, lying in wait to catch my birds. I’ll take the broom to that warlock one of these days. You’d think the pail of slops would have been enough to discourage him, but no, he’s back bold as brass, determined to eat them up. Does Lord Menrod never feed him?” she asked Ralph.

“He lives in the stables and catches mice,” Ralph answered.

“It’s the cheese room he ought to be put in, right here at the cottage,” she advised my mother.

“Or up on the thatched roof,” I added.

There was total chaos when we went to collect Lady. She was gone, disappeared out the closed kitchen door, by the demonic powers of the black devil. A search was instigated at once; all hands, including Pudge, ourselves, and the groom, were sent out. I was the one to find the miscreants, and was foolish enough to tell Mrs. Pudge what I had seen. The devil was walking toward Lady with a mouse in his mouth. He presented it proudly to her; she rejected both gift and donor with disdain. She looked at the cat as if he were a worm, then glided toward me, to be taken up in my arms.