An Affair of the Heart (23 page)

These encouraging words had the inexplicable result of hardening Clay’s wife against him even further. “In hell,” she said in a suppressed squeak, “and he only told me he would see me soon, and wrote the stiffest notes you ever saw. He didn’t even sign them ‘Love’ or anything. ‘Your faithful servant’ he signed them,” she charged, daring her comforter to explain away this monstrous behavior.

“You must remember, Ellie, you’re his
wife.
A man don’t go writing that sort of tommyrot to his
wife.”

“I was not his wife when he wrote that,” she countered.

“You was about to be; same thing. You don’t have to be making up lies when you mean to win a girl fair and square, and marry her.”

He was saved from elaborating on this excellent theme by the arrival of coffee. The serving was accompanied by a sage nod and a wink behind the lady’s head. All was well. Rex relaxed and tried to institute a complimentary conversation on the wedding party, but met with opposition.

“And besides,” she cut into a neat declaration that
he
hadn’t thought her wedding veil looked so bad, whatever everyone else said, “he didn’t even remember to give me my engagement ring.”

The battle for the jewels had been fought in private between the Marquis and the Dowager, so Rex was at a loss to explain this solecism. He had to try new tactics. His poor brain had not been so challenged in years. “I begin to think Clay was right, and you only married him for his money after all. I’m surprised at you, Ellie.”

“Did he say so?” she snapped. “Pray, what can a man expect when he sets out to
buy
a wife?”

“Deuce take it, the price he paid for you he can at least expect her to behave herself.”

An acrimonious discussion of this sort continued, interrupted by the servant with more coffee and a plate of buns, as they had neither of them eaten breakfast. Rex was becoming fidgety, wondering if his message had gone astray. He was relieved to hear the angry banging of heels on the floor outside, and arose just as the door was flung open.

“Hallo, Clay,” he said. “Glad you finally got here.”

Ellie looked, turned an angry pink, and gasped, “Traitor!” to
Rex. “How
could
you serve me such a turn?”

“No, really,” he said, backing away from her, toward the open door and safety.

“Thank you, Rex,” Clay said, his face glowering. “Perhaps you will be kind enough to leave me private with my wife now.”

“Too happy,” Rex agreed, sidling past. Out of the corner of his mouth he said in a stage whisper, “Sore as a boil about not getting a ring, Clay. Get the girl a diamond or you’ll have no peace.”

Rex pulled the door softly to behind him, and, unlike the hovering waiter, felt not the least desire to know what went on behind that wooden facade. His duty done, he had earned a glass of something wet, and went to claim his reward.

Clay, like Rex half an hour before him, had been unready to face the world so soon. His hung-over head had been further jarred to receive news that something of interest awaited him at Fenton’s Hotel. He knew Rex was putting up there, and his first impulse had been to send the nervy fellow who brought the message away with a flea in his ear. It was the man’s knowing smile that there were a
lady
in the case, a
young
lady, dark and pretty-like, that had aroused his interest. His mind immediately flashed to Ellie, only to abandon so preposterous an idea. Still, it bothered him enough that he took a quick peep into her room, and discovered her gone. He had not waited to disturb the servants. The fewer who knew of the affair the better. He shrugged himself into a fresh shirt and jacket without help from his valet, and he, too, opted for a Belcher kerchief to save time. He was first worried that something dreadful had happened to Ellie, but no concatenation of events he arrived at could account for her having gone to
Rex, at an hotel, rather than to himself, her own husband, right next door to her. He reviewed his quixotic chivalry of the preceding evening. At least he was blameless on that score, as he had sacrificed his own desires heroically rather than discommode her in the least. Worry led to anger, and by the time he arrived, he had worked himself into a fine lather.

“Well, Madam Wife,” he said stiffly, “I trust you have a good explanation for this flight.”

“You know well enough why I left,” she countered.

“You are mistaken. I have not the least notion. I wish you would tell me. I cannot believe the hunger for diamonds has led to such wanton misbehavior as this.”

“Wanton misbehavior! You,
you
of all lecherous creatures dare to accuse me of that!”

He was stymied. His behavior had been so far from lecherous that he could only stare, his mouth open. He tried to recall with accuracy what had passed between them before he went to his room last night. Perhaps he had been a little rash but the woman was his wife after all. She must have some idea what was expected of her. “If you find
my
behavior lecherous, I can only say it is well you didn’t marry anyone else.”

“I wish I
had
married anyone else but you,” she flung at him.

He went from incredulity to cold anger. “A wish in which you are not alone, ma’am. However, the damage is done. We
are
married, and I did not pay twenty-five thousand pounds for a wife, only to have her make a laughing stock of me.”

“No, you did it to spite the Rose!”

“No indeed; I have not the least desire to spite such a charming lady.”

“Oh, how dare you.”

“My mistake was all in my lack of daring. I have been too considerate of you, for I see you are not so sensitive as I had thought.”

“I can’t imagine what a miserable creature like you would want with a sensitive wife. You never loved me; you
know
you did not. You had better married Wanda.”

“You are not so unlike her as I had thought. Merely you are more subtle. She doesn’t bother to hide her mercenary streak. Yes, and she is a deal prettier, too,” he threw in, to wound as deeply as possible this woman who was driving him distracted with her freakish starts.

“I am leaving you,” she said in arctic accents, her head high. “I am not going back to your horrid house, so don’t think it.”

“You are going back immediately, before the whole of London hears of your flight. It is well we leave for the Hall today. Before we return, I shall have taught you how to comport yourself as the Marchioness of Claymore.”

“And I am not going to Somerset with you either,” she went on, turning a deaf ear on his statement.

“The bargain is struck, my lady, however much we may
both
regret it. When you have considered the matter further, I think you will be satisfied with your rewards. The diamond will be forthcoming, along with a few other baubles you are unaware of. Then, too, there will be your allowance—five percent of twenty-five thousand pounds is not an insignificant sum. Come, we will leave before the streets are full.”

“I am not coming with you,” she maintained firmly, but already doubts were assailing her as to what she would do, since Rex had failed her in a most ignominious and chicken-hearted manner.

“You would do well to obey me, Ellie,” he said, so menacingly that she arose, with a pathetic effort at dignity, and hobbled toward him.

“What is the matter?” he asked in alarm, noticing her slow progress. “Have you hurt yourself?”

“Certainly not,” she replied, and put her full weight on her sore heel with a concealed grimace. It was only his anger that let her keep her composure. If he became sympathetic, she would be undone entirely.

Having gained his point, Claymore was much of a mind to mend the breach with his wife. He realized with every difficulty that arose that he loved Ellie more, and tried valiantly to talk her around. “It was all that waltzing at our wedding yesterday has raised a blister,” he suggested playfully when he remarked that she was walking hesitantly. She glared.

“It was
you
who was doing all the waltzing,” she reminded him. “You know I cannot waltz in public yet.”

“You can now. You are a married woman. You see, there is another advantage you have forgotten.”

“Another advantage?” she asked, the implication being that it, such as it was, was the sole one.

“I have brought the closed carriage,” he pointed out, “so that we won’t be recognized.”

“Your crest is quite unknown, is it?” she asked, viewing his coat of arms emblazoned on the panel.

He could think of no reply, so he handed her in in silence. Once they were headed back to Claymore House, he regaled her with a description of the delightful summer that lay before them. “We will leave early this afternoon,” he began enticingly. “The traveling carriage is all loaded and as soon as I have attended to a little business, we can begin our trip.” He had decided he
must
buy a diamond, whatever his man of business said. “We’ll cover about fifty miles today—spend the night at Basingstoke, and set out early next morning. We’ll make it into Somerset before dark and have only forty miles to complete our journey home. We should arrive around noon next day. Mama will be back from Dorset by then, and be waiting for us.”

“You said your mother would be moving into the Dower House,” she reminded him, having a very natural desire not to share her domicile with this termagant.

“Yes, but she won’t have moved yet, because she has been with Alice, you recall. She hasn’t been home to get her things packed. Besides, she usually goes to Bath for six weeks in the summer, and will likely wait till she returns to make the move.”

“Must we go to Bath, too?”

“Certainly not, if you don’t want to. We’ll stay at the Hall. We can take the
Stella Maris
out in the Channel. That’s my yacht. Do you like boating?”

“I’ve never tried it.”

“You’re bound to like it.”

“I expect I’ll get seasick.”

Ellie proved such a recalcitrant conversationalist that before they were halfway home Clay sank into silence. Try as he might, he could find no cause for this Turkish treatment he was receiving. Rex’s urging that he get her a diamond seemed his only hope of bringing her around to humor before they left. Go downtown that very morning, before they leave, and buy one on credit. Serve his mother well if he sent her the bill—all
her
fault for not letting him have his own. Only natural a bride should be piqued at not getting an engagement ring, especially when her sister, marrying a squire’s son, had such a whopper.

At home he accompanied Ellie into the Green Saloon. “I have to go out, but I’ll be back within the hour. Why don’t you speak to the housekeeper and tell her what you want done while we’re away? I expect you’ll want those sheets on the sofa and what not.”

“She will
know
that,” his wife informed him in a tone of withering contempt. “Have you ordered the shutters locked and the knocker removed?”

“They will know that, too,” he replied, gritting his teeth and wondering what had happened to that shy little girl he had married.

“Are there any valuables to be taken with us?”

“No, the jewels and valuable things are kept at the Hall, and there will be Meecham and his wife here to keep an eye on what remains—the silver and so on, till we return.”

“Where are you going?” Ellie asked.

“Out.”

“I
know
that. I am not a complete simpleton. Where are you going out to?”

“I hope you’re not going to be one of those pesky women who try to keep a fellow leg-shackled twenty-four hours a day,” Clay said irritably. The ring was to be a surprise.

“You took it hard enough when
I
went out.”

“That was different. And you’re to stay
in
till I get back.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, then sat down suddenly to take the weight off her foot. The poor unsuspecting housekeeper came wandering into this scene of marital conflict, and very nearly got her nose snipped off.

“How does it come you haven’t got the furniture in holland covers?” the young Marchioness asked in a haughty manner, to let her husband see she was not the least bit scared of his servants, as he probably thought

“Why, we were waiting till you’d left, milady,” the good woman said with trepidation. So much for their hope the new mistress would be a biddable one. A dead ringer for the old lady. She dashed off to inform her spouse of this piece of intelligence.

“You didn’t have to snap at her,” her husband chided when they were again alone. “The Meechams have been with us for years.”

“Yes, and a soft touch they have had of it. This place is a mess.” She peered about for dust and dirt and was soon rewarded, for with the master away for a month, the place was not in prime shape.

He regarded her closely, a frown on his youthful countenance. “Who was it told me you were the shy one?” he asked.

“Some poor misguided soul. Homberly perhaps.”

“He was certainly misguided.” She scowled at him, and he suddenly smiled at the ludicrousness of their plight. Here were they, not yet married twenty-four hours, and already into their first fight. He had been convinced that what he wanted was a shy little wife, like the old Ellie. He came suddenly to see he liked her, perhaps even better, in this new guise of jealous woman. How adorable she looked, with her little face formed into a pout. The thing was, he loved Ellie whoever or whatever she was. He came up to her and on impulse kissed the tip of her nose. “I will be back soon, wife, and I want you to have a breakfast waiting for me. Steak and potatoes, and no fobbing me off with bread and tea. We might as well get started for Somerset before noon, since we are up so early.”

She sniffed in an injured fashion, but felt herself weakening against his smile. Claymore, sensing her sinking resolve, put his two arms around her. “I have been the greatest fool in captivity,” he said. “But I’ll tame you yet, woman.” He regarded her in an anticipatory manner, laughed softly, and left.

Alone, Ellie took off her shoe, rubbed her heel, and cried. It was in this deplorable state that she was discovered by the housekeeper, coming with holland covers to prepare the house for their remove.