An Inconvenient Wife (8 page)

Her father’s solicitor was
not one to stand for any nonsense or be easily persuaded, and she had recourse
to her Scottish relatives if need be. Anne leaned back and closed her eyes. How
had it ever come to this? Running and hiding as if she was a criminal, when her
sole crime was not seeing through the man’s façade.
Admit it. You were
flattered at first to be singled out. Quiet Anne, who was more interested in
music than socializing.
Major Thomas Reynald, officer in His Majesty’s
Army, and the bane of her existence. Why he had ever even looked at her, she
never understood, but his marked attention and smooth tongue had charmed her
into accepting his escort several times. Supportive during her Father’s
illness, yes, and she was grateful for it, but the funeral was hardly over when
his true nature emerged. His insistence they marry at once—for her protection
now that she was alone in the world—was a shock, and no matter what he claimed,
Anne had
never
agreed to marry him. In truth, he had never asked her!
Her refusal brought on a furious tirade so astonishing, and frightening, she’d
stared at him like some hapless idiot. Her protest that she needed time—to
grieve, to put her father’s affairs in order—fell on deaf ears. His subsequent
behavior was more than she cared to recall, but she was deeply grateful Bill
and Maggie had been there to stop the man before….

Anne shuddered and slammed
the door on the memory of those horrible moments. She had more important things
to think about now. That part of her life was over, and she would not be forced
into marriage if she had to run to the ends of the earth.
England will do
for now, Anne. No need for any flights of fancy.
Smiling a little at this
mental scold, she sat up, pushed her hair away from her face, and stood.
Grimacing at her wrinkled skirt, she smoothed out the creases as much as
possible and brushed her hair before gathering it in a loose knot at the back
of her neck. Then hunger drove her into the kitchen for a bite to eat before
her guests, wanted and unwanted, arrived.

~* * *~

Something was wrong.
Something more than the underlying wariness and worry that passed for normal
with Danielle. Anne knew it the instant she saw the girl’s face, although Guy
appeared much as usual. Knowing from past experience that any confidences had
to be at the child’s discretion, Anne greeted them with her usual calm
acceptance. Bidding Guy to take Bonnie out to play in the courtyard, she handed
Danielle her favourite flute and began a lesson. This first, then she would
bring up Mr. Blackwell and his request.

Setting her pupil at some
simple melodies, Anne went to tell Bill to keep Guy occupied once the play had
palled, asked Maggie to listen for the Englishman, and then returned to
Danielle. The music today was desultory at best, and faltered entirely as she
closed the door. Danielle placed the instrument in its case with a slow
precision that hurt to watch. Her resolutions thrown to the wind, Anne sat in
the chair beside the girl and took one of her hands in hers.

“My dear child. What has
happened? Can you not tell me?” Anne leaned forward and touched Danielle’s
cheek. “Perhaps I can help.”

“No one can help, Miss
McKenzie. Tomorrow is the last day we can see you. I am to marry
Monsieur
Meraux next month, after my birthday, and it will not be fitting that I come
here.”

“Marry your stepfather!”
Anne gaped in amazement. “Why, that is outrageous! You are not old enough to
marry at all, and certainly not to someone who stands as your father. I am not
sure such a thing is even legal.”

Danielle turned her face
away. “I will be fourteen, and old enough if I give my consent.”

“You must refuse! He cannot
force you. I will go to the authorities if need be,” Anne said in the firmest
voice she could muster, although she quailed at the difficulties of finding aid
in a country foreign to both of them. She knew what it was to be helpless in a
man’s world but she had the Fentons to stand with her, and as the daughter of
an officer and granddaughter of an earl, a position in society. This girl had
no one and was little more than a child.

“He will send me to a
convent and make sure I never see Guy again.”

 The bleak words were
followed by a choked sob. Anne wrapped her arms around her and held her close
until the storm of tears had passed. That it was the one time Danielle had
allowed any outburst made it even more distressing. She was far too young to
carry all this on her slight shoulders. Anne silently consigned the wretched
Meraux to a place in hell. She took her handkerchief from her pocket, raised
Danielle’s face, and wiped her eyes and cheeks.

“I am sorry….” Danielle
began.

“Don’t you
dare
apologize,” Anne interrupted. “I am glad you told me, for how else could I help
you?”

“But there is nothing you
can do!” Danielle’s cry of despair threatened to bring on more tears and Anne
shook her head.

 “Perhaps not, but there may
be someone else who can.” Alarm flared in the girl’s eyes and Anne hurried on.
“I will tell no one of this without your permission, Danielle, but listen to
what I have to say before you make any decisions. Yesterday, an Englishman
called on me with the express desire that I arrange a meeting with you.”
Omitting any reference to the man’s spying activities of the past few days,
Anne relayed what Blackwell had told her.

“Why does an Englishman want
to see me? I know no one in England.”

Danielle looked so
incredulous Anne had to smile. “It does seem somewhat odd, but the gentleman
was persuasive enough that I agreed to ask you.” She looked sympathetically at
her companion. “My dear, at least hear the man out before we decide what next
to do.”

“Will you stay with me?”

“Wild horses could not keep
me away,” Anne declared. She rose and urged Danielle to her feet. “He will be
here soon, but there is just time for us to get something to drink.” Anne had
no doubt the mysterious Mr. Blackwell was unbearably punctual and was in all
likelihood standing outside the gate this very minute!

~* * *~

Blackwell glanced at his
pocket watch, straightened from his lean against the wall of the house opposite
the Condessa’s, and crossed the street. No change in the routine that he had
noticed; the Fenton’s called for the children at the usual time; the stolid
Portuguese maid had left them at the gate, and the excited barking of the dog
hinted at an exuberant reunion. Why then was he experiencing such unease?

Annoyed at his fancies, he
put it down to the upcoming meeting. Naturally he felt some concern about the
girl’s reaction.
He rapped on the door, mildly surprised to have it
opened immediately by Mrs. Fenton. He stepped inside, glanced around the empty
courtyard, and at Mrs. Fenton’s curt nod and terse “Miss McKenzie and Miss
Durant are in the house,” followed her to the small room where he had met with
Miss McKenzie the previous day.

The two stood shoulder to
shoulder by the window, in a not entirely unexpected aura of solidarity, and an
air of protectiveness confirmed his surmise that Miss McKenzie was very
attached to her pupil. At close study, Miss Durant was taller than he realized,
with the budding curves of a young woman, and her face showed evidence of
recent tears. Not a good sign.

“Miss McKenzie.”

“Mr. Blackwell.”

Amused at her regal nod, he
stepped forward and held out his hand, forcing her to do the same, although her
reluctance was evident, and her obvious annoyance when he clasped her hand just
those few seconds beyond propriety was shamefully enjoyable.

“May I present my friend,
Miss Durant? Danielle, this is Mr. Blackwell.”

Her expression warned him
not to repeat his offense with her charge, and while he had the urge to do so,
if only to see her reaction, he did not want to tease the child and nodded in a
friendly manner in response to her stiff curtsey.

“Miss Durant.” An
uncomfortable, short silence ensued. Blackwell was uncertain of his ground here
and judging from her noncommittal expression, it seemed he was to receive no
assistance from Miss McKenzie. What, if anything had she told the girl? And was
she planning to remain with her during this conversation? Not something he had
considered, assuming they would be meeting outdoors, but if they remained
indoors….
Never assume anything, Westcott.
In any case
, p
erhaps
it might be wiser to have Miss McKenzie present, if the child was agreeable to
it
.

“Please sit down, Miss
Durant.” Her quick glance at her companion was confirmation enough and his nod
encompassed both woman and girl. “Miss McKenzie is free to remain, if you so
desire.”

A shy look and a murmured
“yes”, and they both sat on the settee while he took the chair opposite.

“Miss McKenzie may have told
you I have come from England especially to find you and deliver a message. What
you may not know is that this is to be done at my discretion.” Danielle looked
puzzled, but Miss McKenzie appeared thoughtful. Did she realize how much
depended on the situation here? His eyes met hers.
No fool, this woman. She
knew, and was an ally, at least for the moment.

“I was to ensure that you
are well and happy, Miss Durant,” Blackwell said in an even voice, watching her
closely. The quickly veiled pain in her eyes was his answer and he stifled an
impatient curse.
Trouble ahead and you can be sure there is not going to be
a quick resolution to this increasingly complex affair. Damn you, St. Clair,
for pulling me into this.
“I do not believe it to be the case here,
however.” He leaned back and assumed what he felt was a calm expression
unlikely to alarm her. “That being so, I will relay the information as charged,
but first I must ask some questions.”

The girl looked at Miss
McKenzie for guidance, received a small smile of encouragement, and nodded.

“Before coming to Portugal,
you lived with Madame and Monsieur Durant in the town of Trets. What of your
life there,
mademoiselle
? Was it enjoyable? Did you attend school?”

Danielle again looked
puzzled, but answered readily enough. Yes, she did live there with her parents
and her brother, Guy. They had a fine house on the grounds of the school where
Papa
taught. She did not go to school there as it was for boys, but attended a day
school in the town. Guy was still too young for school when her father died,
but
Maman
taught him his letters and such, as she had done with
Danielle. All was well until
Monsieur’s
death. They had to move to a smaller
house, since someone else had
Papa’
s position. The new house was good,
but
Maman
was so sad, missing
Papa
, and
Monsieur
Meraux,
who worked at the school, but not as a teacher, came many times to visit. She
did not know what
Monsieur
Meraux’s position was. The storm of words
burst out as if the floodgates had opened within this wary, reticent girl.

“Then he married
Maman.
”

The child paused for air and
Blackwell glanced at Miss McKenzie, who appeared as amazed at this volubility
as he felt. Evidently this was as new to her as it was to him.

“Did you mind very much,
this marriage?” Miss McKenzie asked, with such casualness that Blackwell almost
smiled with approval. He also had this question in mind.

Danielle dropped her gaze to
the hands folded in her lap. “I should not, since it made
Maman
pleased,
but I missed
Papa
and did not like Mr. Meraux too much.” She raised her
head and looked earnestly at Blackwell. “He was not unkind, you understand, but
he watched me sometimes and was very strict about my friends. Even before
Maman
died, I was hardly allowed to go out except to school, and afterward….” She
faltered, and then went on in a low voice. “I was never allowed to go anywhere
without him. I was to stay home and keep the house, as a proper woman should.”

“Indeed,” Miss McKenzie said
with a sniff.

The wealth of meaning
conveyed in the short word drew a strangled laugh from Blackwell. No doubt as
to Miss McKenzie’s beliefs on the role of women. Not that he disagreed,
especially since in this instance the female was little more than a child at
the time—and not much past that now.

“How long ago was this, Miss
Durant?”

She let out a long, somehow
sad breath. “Since
Papa
died, three years now. Guy was very young and it
was hard for him, especially after
Maman
was gone. The house was sold,
and we moved to
Ville de Cuers
. Everything was strange and we were often
alone, which I did not mind but it is difficult for a little boy to have no one
but a sister to play with.”

“You are an excellent
sister, Danielle, and I am sure Guy feels lucky to have you.”

Miss McKenzie was quick with
her praise and since Blackwell was seething inside by now, he welcomed the
moment to bring his temper under control.

“Why did
Monsieur
Meraux come to Portugal?” Blackwell doubted she knew, but was unwilling to
solicit any further unsettling personal information right now. Besides, the
more he knew of Meraux, the better.