Sweet Bargain (21 page)

Bel looked at her husband. He seemed stunned. Everyone was watching. Nick looked down as if considering the question seriously. When he looked up, he gave Bel a brief rueful smile. Then he assumed his gravest expression.

"Miss Fletcher," he said to Ellen, "I am not the one to advise this company in the matter of dancing. My Uncle Miles believed that dancing was the chief accomplishment of savages and never allowed it at Haverly." He glanced at Bel, and this time she saw a reckless gleam in his eye. "I don't know how to dance."

The silence was as complete as if he'd announced he had a third arm.

Then Augustus stepped, forward and put his arm about Nick's shoulder. "Son," he said, "you have come to the right place. Bel, I trust you are willing to teach his lordship a step or two? Mary, let us have a quadrille."

They formed three squares with Darlington and Phillip partnering Ellen and Louisa, Nick and Bel paired with Richard and Fanny, and Augustus and Serena paired with Aunt and Uncle Fletcher. It was Darlington who insisted they begin with a most intricate variation of the dance, a suggestion met by giggles from his partner. Bel looked at Nick, who shrugged, as if to say he was game for anything.

After walking through the sequence once, they allowed Mary to play. Bel was not surprised at her husband's quick grasp of the pattern of the dance, but his ease of movement, an ease she had observed often enough in other settings, astonished her. The stiff manner with which he usually held himself in company seemed to dissolve under the influence of the music.

Though Darlington must be accounted the more accomplished dancer, and Bel felt he wanted her to notice his skill, Nick entered the dancing with a wholeheartedness that more than made up for his occasional missteps. And with all the occasions for touching his hand and meeting his eye that the dance afforded, it was she who was breathless in the end. Still she would have gladly begun to waltz, but at a lull in the storm outside her father called an end to the evening.

Wine was poured all around and the departing London Shaws, the baby-to-be, and the newlyweds were toasted. Then Bel's father asked to say one more thing. He drew Serena to his side and announced, "Some time ago, from a gathering such as this, we sent Tom off to the navy. In a fortnight he will be returning to us—a captain."

It was a signal for a great deal of noise and confusion. Everyone embraced everyone. Phil let out a series of "hurrahs." Ellen laughed, and Darlington whirled her about the room in a mad waltz. Aunt Margaret declared that she must make custard, and Fanny and Louisa complained of the injustice of Tom's returning just after their own visit ended. Bel turned from her parents' embraces to find her husband standing quietly in the midst of these joyful effusions.

His expression was somber, but he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. "Your brother must be some fellow to inspire so much ... joy. I look forward to meeting him."

Bel did not know what she answered. Tom would not be looking forward to meeting Nick. Tom would be thinking only of her letters, letters that portrayed Nick as her enemy. She had not written since . . . since her marriage. Tom had received only her first impressions of her husband, not her later, more informed opinions. And in those letters she had delighted in representing Nick in the worst possible light. It had been a satisfying exercise of her wit to paint him in the blackest colors.

At the time she had not been conscious of doing him an injury. She had believed herself the injured party. Now she saw how unwilling she had been to consider his point of view. Nick had once accused her family of self-importance, and she saw how right he was. Her shepherd was far more humble than her proud relations.

Chapter 18

NICK SLOWED HIS steps. At the door to Bel's bedroom just a few feet away, their brief show of being the happy bride and groom would end. She walked beside him without speaking, her golden head bent, drops of rain sparkling in her hair. She smelled of the cool rain, woodbine, and her sweet self, and Nick had no wish to relinquish even the light touch of her hand on his arm. But he would. During the carriage ride home he had resolved to return to Haverly for a time.

He had been so sure that insisting upon Bel's marriage to him was right. But tonight he had seen all his reasoning as false. The protection of his name and the advantages of his wealth were paltry compared with the riches of the Shaws.

For a few brief hours he, Nick, had been admitted to their company as if he were one of them, but perhaps the wine had misled him on that point. He had faced Darlington on the strength of that feeling of acceptance. Then he had seen joy transform the faces of the Shaws at the announcement of Tom Shaw's impending return. It would be something to matter like that to a family like the Shaws. Nick would not forget his wife's face under the first influence of the happy news. Nor could he forget how suddenly stricken she had appeared when she turned to him, as if her connection to him had diminished her connection to those she loved.

All the elation he had felt while dancing with her left him then. Amid the family's plans for a grand welcoming dinner, Nick and Bel had taken a quiet leave. In the carriage neither had spoken, and other points of the evening had come back to haunt Nick. The long discussions of the Hilcombe trial had shown him how susceptible Bel had been to his bargain. He had been prepared to accuse her brothers of the very sort of destructive violence for which the Hilcombe villagers might be condemned. But he had not meant their sweet bargain to go so far. He had bargained for kisses, and those kisses had cost Bel far more than he had meant them to, more than he had realized when he insisted on their marriage.

He had claimed to free her on their wedding night, but she was not free while he still insisted on those kisses. Apart from her, at Haverly, perhaps he could gain the strength to free her entirely.

They stopped at her door, and she slipped her hand from his arm and turned to face him. She clasped her hands together as if to steady herself for a speech. But whatever she meant to say went unsaid, and she looked away.

"I am going to leave for Haverly tomorrow morning," he told her.

She lifted a troubled gaze to his at once.

"It's ... business," he said, "and I will be back before your brother arrives."

She looked away again.

"I take back half of what I've said about your family," he offered.

"Half?" She looked up, a faint smile in her eyes.

"Maybe after another party, I will take back the rest," he said lightly.

She nodded. There was a little silence between them. She seemed to study him, and he closed and unclosed his fists, determined to refrain from touching her.

"I'm glad you told us about the dancing," she said at last.

"I am too," he confessed. "I enjoyed dancing with you."

"Will you ... dance again?"

The question surprised him, but the answer was easy. "Yes." He took a step back. Suddenly it was impossible to linger at her door and not touch her.

"Good night," he whispered. "If I do not see you in the morning—good-bye."

"Good night," she said.

He began to back away. Then, with more resolution than he believed he possessed, he turned and strode rapidly down the hall.

"Wait," she called softly. "Where are you going?"

"I'll be in the library." Anywhere but in the room next to hers.

She gave him a doubtful look.

"Don't worry about me. Good night."

Bel stood in a wan patch of light at the entrance to the stable, fighting the strange hollow feeling that had possessed her ever since her husband left. She drew her shawl about her in the cool morning air. It was not quite sunrise, and yet she'd left her bed compelled by a restlessness she could not overcome.

She had lain awake many nights since he left, wondering at his reasons for going. It was silly to think he had left her for other than business reasons. After all, large properties such as he possessed could not manage themselves. But she was painfully aware that just when she had come to like the bargain kisses, he had stopped asking for them. And, equally troubling to her sleep, was the matter of her failure to confess her letters to Tom. At her door that evening Nick had been looking at her with admiration and desire, and she had not wished to trade those looks for looks of anger.

It seemed that every time she and Nick reached some small accord, her family came between them. They could hardly have the proper regard and esteem for one another that a husband and wife should have if she could not tell him the truth. But he could hardly respect and love a woman who had so unthinkingly held him up to the contempt and ridicule of her family and his neighbors.

She would have to reach Tom first and explain to him how much her views had altered in the month she had been married. She hardly knew how to understand herself, and she would appear self-contradictory and foolish to her sensible brother. The husband she had been so sure she did not want was gone, and she felt his absence every hour.

"Well, lass," came a voice from the stable behind her.

Bel turned. "Good morning, Mr. Farre," she said. She looked across the gravel drive at Courtland. Its top windows were just catching the sun and blazing into fiery brilliance. She could not spend another day there thinking of Nick every minute.

Farre was standing beside her. "Did you want a horse saddled, lass?" he asked.

"No, thank you, Mr. Farre," Bel replied. "I think I ... will walk into the village today."

Later, as she walked along Bel had every reason to congratulate herself on her plan. The dew on the grass, the song of a thrush, the pleasure of her own brisk stride restored her. She greeted a farmer leading his cow to market, gathered a bouquet of bright red poppies and purple harebells and sticky, fragrant strands of honeysuckle, and had quite forgotten to think of her husband for whole minutes at a time.

Then she saw Auggie approaching from the opposite end of the lane with Honey trotting at his heels.

Auggie had been avoiding her quite successfully for days. He had his rod and basket, and Bel could guess his destination. She hoped he would not notice her until it was too late to avoid the encounter, but the dog at his side could not be fooled. Honey barked and came bounding ahead to greet Bel. Auggie checked his stride an instant, then hurried to the break in the hedge where the path to the Lower Ashe began. He disappeared from sight.

"Auggie," Bel called.

There was no answer, but Honey, barking excitedly, darted through the hedge after Auggie. The barking stopped, and the dog came bounding back into the lane. She came up to Bel, wagging her tail with such vigor that it seemed to shake her whole body. She dropped at Bel's feet and rolled onto her back, encouraging Bel to rub and pat her silky chest. From beyond the hedge came a piercing whistle that brought Honey to her feet once more. She trotted to the hedge and barked in confusion.

Bel marched up to the opening.

"Auggie Shaw," she called, "your dog has better manners than you do."

Then he appeared, stomping along, muttering.

"Stupid dog," he said to Honey, who began jumping up and down around the two of them. "Down," Auggie commanded, and the dog dropped at his feet.

"What do you want, Bel?" he asked.

"To say hello," she said.

"Where are you going?"

"To town," she replied.

"Walking?" I thought you had a dozen fine carriages to ride in now."

"I like walking, Auggie. What are you doing?"

He shrugged and looked at the rod in his hands. "Fishing."

"Alone?"

"I'm meeting a friend," he said. He looked at the dust of the lane and toed it with his boot.

"Do you know who your friends are, Auggie?" she asked, looking at the dejected slump of his shoulders.

"I know who they aren't." He shot her an angry glance.

Bel tried another tack. "What about Arthur and Phil—aren't they going with you?"

"All they do is study for smalls."

"You could, too," Bel suggested.

"Not me. I'm the only one that's not going anywhere. Tom and you, you left. Phil and Arthur will go, too. Not me. I'm the one that's going to stay and fish like we always did."

Bel took a deep breath and watched her brother closely. "Do you think you'll catch anything on the Lower? Dozens of fish were poisoned on the earl's stretch little more than a week ago."

He showed no surprise, but lifted his head, his eyes cold, his chin tilted up defiantly. "I know."

"Do you think Tom would respect what you're doing, Auggie?" she asked.

"Do you think Tom's going to respect you? At least I stick by my friends and don't go off after titles and riches."

"Darlington is not your friend," she said. "I don't know why he's doing what he's doing, but it's foolish and hurtful."

"He
is
my friend. He was Tom's friend and now he's mine. You are not on our side anymore, Bel. You stopped being on our side that day we went up to Courtland in the pony cart."

Bel felt a slight flush creep into her cheeks. "It's not a matter of sides, is it?" she asked. "The earl is part of our family now."

"He's no Shaw."

"But we have to let him be one of us."

"The fellow who took
our
stream? Hah!"

"It's not just our stream, Auggie, and at least he respects it. He's not poisoning trout."

"You defend him because you like his kisses. You kissed him that day we went up there. I know you did."

"Kisses don't make enemies."

"Don't they? You're my enemy, Bel." He gave her one last burning glare, then snapped his fingers at Honey and turned and stepped through the hedge again. The dog whimpered once and nuzzled Bel's hand. Bel responded with a quick ruffling of the golden head, then a command that sent the dog bounding after Auggie.

Bel stood in the lane where the whole troubling summer had begun. Tonight Tom would be home. Whose side would he be on?

Bel crossed her room for the third or fourth time. Daylight faded at her windows, and she gauged the hour yet again. She told herself she was perfectly ready for the evening. She was certainly satisfied with her appearance. Her new gown of pale blue figured muslin seemed like a piece of summer sky. It was gathered below her breasts with a length of creamy ribbon, and about her shoulders she wore a matching shawl with a blue border. All that remained of her preparations was to fix in her mind the precise phrases she must use to convince Tom of Nick's worthiness to be her husband.