Patricia Veryan - [Sanguinet Saga 07] - Married Past Redemption (32 page)

"Your pardon, madam," murmured the lackey, carrying in a
calling card.

Lisette whirled on him. "What is it?" she snapped.

The lackey blinked, and made a rapid readjustment of his
private
opinion that Mrs. Strand was as calm and gentle as she was lovely.

A picnic
was prepared the following
morning, the girls
having indicated an interest in viewing the efforts of the amateur
shipbuilders. Two hampers were loaded into the chaise, together with
the kitchen maid who was to preside over the feast. Her qualifications
were evidently questionable, for no sooner were the hampers installed
than Brutus leapt into the vehicle. The maid's resultant hysteria
alarmed the animal, but did not undermine his guarding instincts. As a
result, demands to "get out at once!" were met with a craven crouch and
much whining, but a marked disinclination to obey. Bolster, feeling
responsible for the dog's behaviour, volunteered to ride in the chaise
and protect the maid, an excitable French emigree who was niece to the
cook and quite sure she would be devoured was "the beast
énorme"
not allowed into the hamper. Strand said with some heat that no servant
or guest of his was going to be inconvenienced by a confounded
bacon-brained mongrel, but his preparations to oust the dog brought
forth nervous protests from the ladies, while the maid declared she was
about to fall into a fit. Outnumbered, he abandoned the effort and they
started off, only an hour later than had been originally intended.

The day was misty but with a promise of brightness that
materialized
to warm sunshine by the time they reached Silverings. Once again,
Lisette's heart lightened when they dismounted before the ruins, and
Judith, who had not previously visited the estate, was enraptured and
roamed about eagerly, exploring and admiring. The supplies for the boat
renovations had been stored in the barn, together with the
Silvering
Sails,
just now looking like nothing so much as a derelict fit only for
firewood. Lisette said as much, but her brother indignantly proclaimed
that the "old lady" was perfectly seaworthy and that a few repairs and
new paint and varnish would work wonders with her.

"But it is enormous!" said Judith dubiously.

"It!" Norman snorted. "
She
, Judith!
She
!"

"Whether an 'it' or a 'she,' the fact remains that you have,
as usual, bitten off much more than you can chew, brother dearest!"

"Pooh! Nonsense! Strand and I will have it done in the wink of
an eye!"

"Well, we—er—might require some helpers," Strand said
cautiously.

"Oh, no!" cried Norman in tragic accents. "I had thought this
was
our
undertaking, Justin. Just the two of us!"

"And m-m-me," Bolster put in aggrievedly.

"Yes. You, of course, Jerry. Strand, never say you mean to
import common
workmen
? Only think, we have
Silverings close at hand. Do we decide to work late, we can always stay
overnight."

"From the size of your boat," remarked Lisette, watching
Strand from
under her lashes, "you might be obliged to move down here for a year—or
more.'

He considered her with a level, dispassionate gaze and said
quietly, "It's an idea, ma'am."

The gentlemen now became extremely occupied with an inspection
of
the vessel. She was a small yacht but, being shored up, did indeed look
enormous in the barn. A flying spark from the fire that had gutted most
of the house had ignited her sails, burnt the roof of the cabin, and
well scorched the deck and the rails before the fire had been
extinguished. The hull was sound, said Norman, but all the woodwork
needed refinishing, new masts would have to be fitted, and the cabin
rebuilt. The talk here became very technical; Lisette became lost in a
discussion of shrouds and jibs and something called "the mizzen."
Judith drifted quietly away and, eventually following her example,
Lisette wandered into the sunshine.

There was no sign of Judith, but a merry conversation was
being
conducted in the livable part of the house, so it was likely the girl
was inside, talking with the gardener's wife. Lisette started to join
them, but a sudden image of a dressing table holding a small bottle of
scent rose before her mind's eye, and she decided she did not care to
go in just at the moment. Brutus was sitting beside the Dutch door,
either guarding the house or the picnic hamper that had been carried
there. Lisette sat on a bench for a while, enjoying the sunshine and
stroking the dog. He howled when at length she stood and started to
walk away, but although she called him and he wriggled eagerly, he
could not bring himself to desert his post and sat moaning as she
strolled away.

There was such peace here, thought Lisette. The cries of
mudhens and
ducks, the soft splashing sounds of the river, the sweet fragrance of
flowers. How Rupert Strand could have disliked Silverings, was—

"Pssst!"

Startled, she glanced around. She was by now out of sight of
house
and barn and it was quite lonely… And then the low hanging branches of
a willow tree parted. A handsome, eagerly smiling face was revealed. A
gloved hand beckoned imploringly. For an instant, Lisette was too
shocked to move. Then, hurrying to him, she cried, "Garvey! My God! Are
you mad? If Strand sees you—"

"Much I care." He took her hand and drew her into the leafy
privacy
created by the gracefully trailing branches. Pressing her fingers to
his lips, he murmured, "Oh, my dear—my beautiful love! If you but knew
how—"

Recovering her wits, she pulled her hands away. "I do indeed
know,
sir! I know the dreadful things you said to my husband! Flagrant
untruths! And I know why! You thought to provoke him into a duel!"

"Of course." His adoring eyes searched her face. "You must
have
guessed what I was about. I know of no other way to free you from your
wretched bondage, and can only offer my deepest apologies that I failed
you."

"Failed me!" With a little cry of horror, she stepped back.
"Mr.
Garvey, I fear your intellect must have become disordered. When did I
ever suggest so dreadful a thing? Why would you suppose I—"

For answer he all but sprang to take her in his arms, saying
breathlessly, "Your eyes, your smiles—you have told me in a thousand
ways that my affections are returned. Never feel ashamed, beloved. You
were not to blame for that travesty of a marriage!"

"Stop! Oh, stop!" she cried, fighting to free herself. "If I
gave
you such an impression, I am heartily sorry for it. I was deeply moved
by the poem you writ me, but I'd not meant to encourage your hopes."

He stared at her. "My poem? You—ah, liked it, then?"

"Liked it! I thought it the loveliest thing. And it came at a
time
when I was rather downhearted. Truly, I was exceeding grateful, but—"

"It came from my soul." He smiled. "Lisette, you do not love
that
ill-bred boor. He has neither looks nor address, and aside from his
fortune is totally beneath you! If—"

Her hands clenched into small fists, her eyes flashing,
Lisette
flared, "How dare you speak so of my husband! Ours may not have been a
love match, but Strand has been all that is good! Our only real quarrel
was occasioned because you told him such wicked lies!"

"For which the brute beat you savagely, so I heard!" He sank
to one
knee before her, looking up, and said in a near-groan, "Lord! When I
heard of it I thought I must run mad! Your beautiful self abused by
that crudity who is not worthy to kiss your little shoe! And now, in
your sweet loyalty, you defend the creature! How like you! Oh, Lisette!
Lisette! To think I brought such misery upon the lady I worship!"

His voice broke with the intensity of his emotion, and bending
lower, he seized the hem of her dress and pressed kisses upon it.
Aghast, Lisette drew away, staring down at him. Judith was not the only
Van Lindsay to harbour a romantic nature. Beneath Lisette's cool and
graceful poise beat a heart yearning for the romance she now feared
would never come her way save, as Grandmama had implied, through the
"side door." She had been revolted by Garvey's behaviour, and she had
no wish to take him for a lover, but his tender poem and this abject
display of worship could not but move her. Thus, instead of firmly
rebuking him, as she knew she should do, she said rather unsteadily,
"What you have heard or—or been told, I cannot guess. But, I do assure
you that Strand has never—"

He came to his feet in a lithe bound and gripped her arms. "I
have
heard only what all London has heard. Ah, never look so pale, dear
loyal soul! Did you think to silence servant-hall gossip? Rumours swept
Town like wildfire and before noon the next day everyone knew. Many
discounted the tales. Not I! I knew all too well how that crude savage
would serve you, God forgive him!"

"No!" she cried in desperation. "Whatever people say, Strand
has
never been really brutal to me. You should not have come here, James. I
am married, and—"

"Yes, so you told me once before, my dearest. Married past
redemption, you said, but—"

"I did not! That is—I did not mean it in
such
a way. I was—I had not— Oh,
why
will you persist
in—"

He tightened his hold as she attempted to draw back. "You
promised,"
he intervened tenderly, "to send for me if he ill-treated you. Why did
you not? Did you think I had failed you in the matter of the duel, and
would fail again?" He overrode her shocked denial, and went on in a
louder voice, "I was compelled, my adored Fair. Claude Sanguinet once
discovered a slight indiscretion committed by a member of my immediate
family. He threatened to make the matter public if I oppose him in the
Strand situation."

Intrigued, despite herself, Lisette asked, "But why? One would
think
he had every reason to loathe the Strands after Rachel jilted him and
married Leith. Why would he choose to stop your duel?"

"Because I am known to be his friend. He does not want it
thought that my challenge to Strand was issued at his instigation."

She frowned. "It all sounds most weird. But the important
thing is
that you must go at once, and forget about me. How you found me here, I
cannot think, but—"

"I followed you. I have been staying in Horsham, praying for a
chance to see you, and was watching the Hall when you left this
morning."

Touched, she said, "James, I am so sorry. But you must find
another lady!"

He drew her closer. "Foolish little love. How could I exist
were I to give up hope that someday you and I will—"

"Lisette? Lisette… where are you?"

Lisette paled. "Bolster! Oh, heavens! James, you
must
go!"

"Only if you promise to meet me."

He bent to kiss her, but she swung her face away. "No! Can you
not accept my refusal? I do not want to hurt you, but you
must
not continue to pursue me!"

"Li-sette… ?"

The voice was very close. With a frightened gasp, she tore
free. "Go! For pity's sake,
go!"
she hissed desperately, and stepping into the sunshine again, came
almost face to face with Lord Bolster. "Here I am," she cried smiling,
but her heart racing with fright. "Is the boat finished then, my lord?"

She could not know how white and frightened she looked.
Bolster frowned, and his eyes shifted to the leafy screen behind her.

"Yes. And S-Strand and Norman ready to sail off to sea, taking
our
f-foo Moo- luncheon with them. I thought you had become lost and have
been looking for you this age."

"I am sorry to have wandered off," she said contritely, "but
it is so lovely here."

A branch snapped behind her. His expression unwontedly grim,
Bolster
stepped towards the tree. Horrified, Lisette took his arm and all but
babbled, "You must explain this strange business of restoration to me,
for I would—" She stopped, her great eyes becoming wider as she saw
that Strand was coming briskly towards them.

Bolster's suspicions were by now so thoroughly aroused that he
would
not have been in the least surprised had James Garvey leapt from
concealment brandishing a pistol. But because he was both fond of
Lisette and sincerely sorry for Strand, he essayed the travesty of a
laugh and stammered, "I f-found your b-br-br lovely w-w-wife, J-Justin."

Stand looked at him thoughtfully. "So I see."

Justin
Strand had contrived to exist for
close to thirty
years without experiencing the adoration of the waters that inspired so
many of his fellow Britons. He had read Thomas Traherne's immortal
observation, "You never enjoy the world aright, till the sea itself
floweth in your veins…" and had been unmoved by it. He had been obliged
to spend a good deal of time on shipboard and, although not plagued by
sea sickness, had considered the interminable journey to India (which
had taken the better part of four months) a dead bore. It would, in
fact, never have occurred to him to go to the trouble and expense of
rebuilding
Silvering Sails
had he not become fond
of Norman.
He had soon realized that the youth he'd at first been inclined to
write off as a lazy do-nothing had all the makings of a fine young man,
whose greatest vice was boredom. Suspecting that the boy's initial
hostility towards him had been inspired by a deep devotion to Lisette,

Strand judged this not only understandable, but commendable,
while
the pranks were more the products of youthful spirit and a sense of
humour than an intent to harm. He should have been sent away to school.
It was a great pity that Humphrey Van Lindsay had been unable to
provide the needed funds to permit this. Strand, however, did have the
funds, and with typical zest he set about arranging for Norman's
future. It would require time for his schemes to materialize, and
meanwhile the refurbishing of the yacht might not only keep the boy
happily occupied for the balance of the summer but also provide them
with a boat once again, if only for use on the river.