The Sherbrooke Bride (17 page)

Alexandra closed his eyes, ground her teeth until her jaw hurt, and cursed, one of Douglas's colorfully lurid expressions.

The other woman yelled, “Joan, you will come back here this instant! The chit is going away, let her go!”

The girl ignored her, flinging open the carriage door and bounding exuberantly inside. Alexandra was facing her soon-to-be non-sister-in-law.

“Where are we going?” Sinjun asked, smiling brilliantly at Alexandra.

A
LEXANDRA STARED HARD
at her sister-in-law. “I want you to get out, please. You heard what I said—I am not visiting tenants or anyone else. I'm leaving Northcliffe Hall and I have no intention of returning ever again.”

Sinjun gave her the placid look of a nun. “I will go with you, of course. It's all the same to me. Please don't make me get out. I am your sister now by marriage and I'm not a bad person, really, and—”

“I don't assume you're a bad person, but I am leaving your brother, just as your mother obviously wishes, just as your brother wishes, just as, doubtless, the backstairs maids wish. I cannot be responsible for you. Goodness, I don't even know you or you me! You must go about your business. Would you please get out of the carriage?”

Sinjun found this complication profoundly interesting. So this was marriage in the making. It was far more engrossing than any of the Greek plays she'd read by candlelight at midnight in Douglas's library. It was closer to the Restoration plays she'd read by Dryden and Wycherley. Though she didn't understand all the speeches of the plays, she understood enough to laugh herself silly. She also knew enough not to tell Douglas that she'd read them. She
had this feeling he wouldn't be at all amused.

“Why are you leaving Douglas?”

“Please, get out.”

Instead, Sinjun waved to the other coachman and the carriage rolled away. Alexandra's mother-in-law was still looking out the window back at her. There was a look of confusion mixed with hopefulness on her face. She didn't attempt to halt the carriage.

“Now there is no choice unless you want me to walk. No, I didn't think you would. You must talk to me.”

It was simply too much. Alexandra merely shook her head, opened the door, grabbed her valise, and stepped to the ground. She looked up at the homely appalled face of John Coachman. “Take her home, if you please.”

“I can't,” the coachman wailed. “His Lordship would feed my innards to the pigs. I can't! Please, my lady, don't ask me to do that. I can't leave you. 'Twould mean my throat being slit, my hide being whipped off my back!”

“I had not believed the earl so very vicious and unfair. It matters not. It is no longer my problem. In truth, I don't care what you do. Remain or return to Northcliffe. I will be the one to leave.” She swung away and began walking. The valise was heavier than she'd believed. She would make do. She wouldn't stop and she wouldn't let her shoulders stoop.

Sinjun was soon at her side, humming under her breath as if she hadn't a care in the world, as if they were out for an afternoon stroll with nothing more on their minds than the varieties of butterflies they would see. The carriage was soon following some paces behind them.

“This is absurd,” Alexandra said, so frustrated she was nearly shrieking. She whirled about to face Sinjun. “Why are you doing this to me? I haven't ever done anything to you that I know of. As I said, I don't even know you.”

Sinjun cocked her head to one side and said simply, “You're my sister. I've never had a sister, only three brothers, and I can tell you it's not at all the same thing. Douglas has obviously upset you. He is sometimes a bit autocratic, perhaps even stern and forbidding. But he means well. He wouldn't strap John Coachman, believe me.”

“He means well toward you but I am perfectly nothing to him. Go away now.”

“Oh no, I shan't leave you. Douglas would feed my innards to the pigs too. He has very firm ideas about protecting ladies. A bit old-fashioned, but nonetheless, he is the head of the Sherbrooke family and takes his responsibilities very seriously. There are scores of us, you know.”

“He doesn't take his marriage seriously. Go away.”

“I did hear that he wasn't expecting you, but I paid no attention to that. Tony would never serve him up a pig in a poke, if you know what I mean. I've never seen Melissande but everyone says she is the most glorious creature in southern England, perhaps even in western England as well. But I can see Douglas quickly becoming very morose had Tony married her to him rather than to himself. I don't mean to insult your sister, but Douglas wouldn't deal with a female who knew she was beautiful and expected everyone to recognize her beauty all the time. Tony did the right thing, though I do hope he knows what he's doing. But what I don't understand is why—”

Alexandra stopped her. She said clearly and quite calmly, “Listen to me now. Your brother doesn't want me. He wants my sister. He loves her. Moroseness has nothing to do with anything. He doesn't care that she knows she's beautiful. He is perfectly willing to praise her eyebrows for the next fifty years. He wants to kill Tony. He is bitterly unhappy. I am leaving so that he doesn't take me himself back to my father and drop me on the doorstep of Claybourn Hall like some unwanted package. Would you not do the same thing, Sinjun? Would you not want to escape such humiliation?”

Her sister-in-law had called her Sinjun, and without hesitation. Sinjun smiled. “I am only fifteen so I don't perfectly understand what has happened. But I agree with you. Humiliation is not a good thing. Are you certain Douglas would humiliate you in that way? I cannot see him doing it. He isn't a cruel man.”

“He wouldn't be to you.”

Sinjun just shook her head. “Douglas took a birch rod to my bottom last year. He thought I deserved it but, of course, I heartily disagreed. I don't even remember what I did. Isn't that odd? Listen now, I cannot leave you alone. I fully intend to go with you. May I call you Alexandra? Perhaps even Alex? It is a man's nickname, just like mine. Do you have any money? We will need money, you know.”

Alexandra stared at the young girl with frustrated awe. The Sherbrookes were a family beyond her comprehension and experience. She found herself nodding. She'd heard of tidal waves, but she'd never before imagined that she could experience the effects of one and not be close to the sea.

“Good, because Mother never gives me any money
at all, except at Christmas, and even then I must account for every shilling, every penny, even to what I paid for her present. And she always criticizes my choices. Why, last Christmas, I hand-sewed a half-dozen handkerchiefs for Douglas and she said the linen had cost too dear and that my stitches were crooked and they should be tossed away. Of course Douglas didn't throw them away. He said he liked them. He uses them. It was humiliating now that I think on it. Perhaps I can understand just a little bit. I would like to be treated like a reasonable person, not patted on the head like a silly pug.”

“Yes,” said Alexandra.

Sinjun rubbed her hands together. “I am taller than you and much larger so I doubt I can wear any of the clothes in your valise, but perhaps we can buy me something else to wear on our way to your home. How far must we go? Several days away, I hope. I long for some adventure. Yes, it will be great fun, you'll see. Perhaps we'll even meet some highwaymen. How vastly romantic that will be! Don't you agree?”

It was then that Alexandra began to realize that she'd been firmly trapped and netted and by a guileless fifteen-year-old girl.

“I do so love to walk and enjoy nature,” Sinjun continued, taking a skip. “I also know a number of quite interesting stories and that will pass the time. If I bore you, why then, you must tell me and I will be quiet.”

Alexandra, overwhelmed, bewildered, and routed, could only nod.

“Douglas merely tells me to shut my trap, as does Ryder. Tysen—he plans to be a vicar—he wants to say the same things but he fears the fires of hell if
he did say what he truly wanted to. His perceived path of rectitude is sometimes extremely annoying, but Douglas says we must be patient because Tysen is young and not yet thinking clearly. He says his belfry is still filled with nonsense. Tysen also fancies himself in love with a twit who makes me cringe she is so appallingly
good
and priggishly
proper.
Ryder just laughs at Tysen and says she has two names—Melinda Beatrice!—which is nauseating, and she simpers and has no bosom.”

Alexandra gave it up. She eyed the sweet-faced very enthusiastic girl beside her. She turned and waved toward John Coachman.

“What are you doing, Alexandra?”

“Going home,” she said. “We're going home.”

“Oh dear, no adventure then. How disappointing. Perhaps someday in the future you and I can go seashell collecting. That's good sport. Come along then, let me assist you into the carriage.”

It wasn't until five more minutes had passed that Alexandra noticed the quite smug grin on Sinjun's face. She stared and winced and shuddered as understanding hit her. The chit had knowingly done her in. Guileless, ha! Alexandra felt a perfect fool. Dear God, what malignant force had set her in the midst of this remarkably horrid family?

Done in by a fifteen-year-old girl who looked as innocent as a nun. It was very lowering, more lowering than falling off a horse and landing on her bottom.

 

Douglas stood on the bottom step of Northcliffe Hall, his hands on his hips. He watched the carriage pull into a wide arc and come to a halt not six feet from him. John Coachman looked triumphant.
Relief flowed from his smile. Douglas was glad he'd sent his mother into the hall with orders that she remain there. Her initial impression of Alexandra hadn't been promising. He sighed even as he stoked his anger. Tysen stood at his elbow, telling him what Sinjun had done, how forward she'd been and how he should discipline the chit, but Douglas had only smiled, knowing rather that he would thank her.

He knew Sinjun. And he'd been right. She'd brought his errant wife back, and with little waste of time. She should have been born a male; she would have made a masterful general.

When the carriage door opened and Sinjun leapt out, Douglas didn't move. He stared beyond her. Finally, Alexandra emerged, her head down, her shoulders bowed. She looked defeated and that angered him even more.

“I see you came back,” he said, cold as a fish on ice.

“Yes,” Alexandra said, not looking at him. “I don't want to be, but it appears that I cannot even best the youngest Sherbrooke.”

She was trying to hold her valise and that angered him even more. She was still recovering from her illness and yet she'd tried to leave him again—and carrying that damned valise herself!

“The Sherbrookes are competent, for the most part.”

“May I leave now, my lord?” As she spoke, she raised her head and looked him squarely in the face. “I want to leave. May I have Your Lordship's august permission?”

“No.” Douglas strode to her and pulled the valise from her fingers. “Come along now.”

She didn't move. He was aware that every
Sherbrooke servant was an avid watcher to the damnable melodrama they were witnessing, and that he was serving up meaty gossip for many winter nights to come.

He moved closer to her and said very quietly, “I am tired to death of your imprudence. You act without thought, you are reckless, and I will tolerate it no more. You will come with me this instant, and for God's sake, stop acting like I am going to beat you!”

She straightened her shoulders and walked beside him into the hall.

Her mother-in-law stood there, looking ready to breathe fire at her. Alexandra hung back. She didn't want this. She looked at the other young man, and knew him to be Tysen, the youngest brother who was in love with the twit of two names and no bosom. Sinjun was nowhere to be seen, but Alex knew she was watching. No Sherbrooke would pass up such a promising spectacle.

Douglas turned back when she stopped. “What is it now?”

“When are you going to take me back to my father?”

“What the devil does that mean?”

“You know very well that you don't want me to remain here. I simply left to save you valuable time and to spare myself further mortification at your hands. If you would but allow me to leave, you would never have to see me again.” She paused and the bitterness crept into her voice. “I suppose you prefer to take me back, don't you? Will it give you pleasure to further humiliate me? To tell my father that I am sorely deficient and that you want all your money back?”

“Lower your voice, damn you!”

“Why? Your mother wants me here about as much as she would welcome the plague! My words must make her rejoice.”

“Be quiet!”

“I will not be quiet! I no longer recognize you as my husband. I will no longer obey you.”

“You are in my home! I am master here, no one else. You will do exactly what I tell you to do and that's an end to it! No more of your nonsense, madam.”

And Alexandra, mild of manner and of quiet, thoughtful temperament, flew at her husband and struck his chest with her fists.

He let her strike him simply because he was frozen with shock and surprise. Her face was flushed, her eyes dilated. He very gently clasped her wrists and pulled her hands to her sides.

“No more, Alexandra, no more. Now, you and I have some talking to do.”

“No,” she said.

Douglas was a firm believer in reason and calm. He exercised beneficent control. He also was quite used to being the master in his home, he hadn't been bragging about that for it was the simple truth. He was not a despot nor was he a malignant savage. But his word was the law and his opinions the ones that counted. But this damned woman dared to go against him. It was infuriating and intolerable. He found himself uncertain what to do. In the army, any recalcitrant soldier he faced would simply have been removed and whipped or confined to quarters. But what did a man do when his wife disobeyed him in front of every servant and his mother and his brother and sister? If she struck him?