The Heiress (2 page)

“Now,” Joby said, standing back and looking at an imaginary gown, “this is more to my taste Here, you men there, lift me into it.”

At that even Thomas smiled broad enough to show his teeth, and a laugh escaped Jamie too.

Joby gave a great leap as though being lowered into the stiff dress, then waited while the hooks were latched.

“Now for my jewels.” Joby pretended to be looking at several displays of jewels. “Yes, here are the emeralds and the rubies and diamonds, and here are pearls. Which shall I choose?” she asked as though in answer to a question. “Choose? How
does one choose jewels? I shall, of course, wear them all.”

Spreading her legs apart as though bracing herself for a storm at sea, Joby extended her arms. “All right, men, put your hands behind my shoulders and brace me. Now, you there, put my jewels on me.”

Everyone at the table was laughing as Joby extended first one foot, then the other, then an arm, then stretched her neck as though a hangman's rope had elongated it for her. Then, with her neck still stretched, she somehow managed to convey the impression to her audience that her head was now being weighed down with great, massive earrings. And when the jeweled headdress was placed on top of her head, she visually swayed under the weight.

By now everyone, servants, retainers, family, all except Joby's mother, were laughing helplessly.

“Release me now,” Joby said to the imaginary men still bracing her shoulders. For a moment she swayed dangerously, about to go down, first one side, then the other, looking like a drunken sailor standing on the deck of a storm at sea. Just when she was about to go down, she righted herself and finally, at last, with great dignity, held herself erect.

With difficulty, the audience quieted and awaited what came next.

“Now,” Joby said with gravity, “I shall see this man who is to escort me, the richest woman in all of England, across the country. I will see if he is worthy of taking me to the man my father has contracted for me to marry. But wait, tell me of him.”

Everyone at the table was sneaking looks at Jamie as he ducked his head shyly, holding Berengaria's hand close to his heart. He'd only been home for a few days, and he found he
could not bear to allow any of his family out of his sight or touch.

“James Montgomery,” Joby said. “Ah yes, I have heard of that family. A bit of money there, but not much. But then no one has riches to compare to me, do they? What?! Speak up! I cannot hear you. Yes, yes, that is better. I know in my heart how rich I am, but I am still a woman and I like to hear it said aloud.”

For a moment she was lost in thought as she admired her left arm. “Now, what was I speaking of? Oh yes. This man who has the privilege, the honor, of escorting me. He is a Montgomery. What is it you say? He is of the
poor
branch of the Montgomerys?”

Joby's pixie face with its sharp nose wrinkled in puzzlement. “Poor? I do not believe I know this word. Please explain it to me.”

When the laughter had quieted again, she continued. “Ah, I see. People who have only a hundred silk dresses and only small jewels. What? No jewels? No silk? What's that? You say this man lives in a house with only part of a roof and sometimes no meat on the table?”

At this Jamie frowned, knowing that this was why he'd agreed to take on the degrading employment of escorting some spoiled heiress across England to join her almost-as-rich fiancé. But even so, he did not like to hear it said aloud.

Joby ignored her brother's frown. “If he has nothing to eat, he must be rather … small,” she said in wonder, making Jamie laugh and forget his very real problems. Small he was not.

“Shall I carry him about in a box?” Joby asked, holding up her hands, not forgetting to act as though her arms were
weighed down with hundreds of jewels. She kept her fingers spread wide because her imaginary rings were so large they wouldn't allow her to close her fingers. “A jeweled box, of course,” she said. “Ah yes, perhaps this is good. I see a way to carry more jewels. What! Is this box not made yet? You are dismissed! And you! And—Oh, I see, he is not small. He does not eat, but he is not small. I do not understand. But perhaps you had better send him in and let me see this … this … What was that word again? Ah, yes, poor. Let me see this moor, er, ah, poor person.”

At this Joby did a pantomime of the Maidenhall heiress standing utterly still, weighed down with all her many hundreds of jewels, and awaiting the arrival of James Montgomery.

Out of the side of her mouth, Joby made a creaking noise as of rusty door hinges trying to open. “I have it on authority,” she said as an aside to her audience, “that gold hinges creak abominably. That's why we refuse to have them here.”

In the next moment Joby's face changed to astonishment: her mouth dropped open, her eyes widened, then she threw her arm across her eyes as though to keep a bright light from blinding her. “You are too beautiful,” she said in a loud stage whisper.

At that, Jamie's face turned red, and his two men, who were sick of seeing women make fools of themselves over the extraordinary beauty of Jamie, fell about themselves laughing.

“No jewel in the world,” Joby shouted above the loud laughter of the men, “could compare with your beauty. Oh, I must have you. Must, must, must have you. Here!” she said and began pantomiming the removal of all her jewels, sliding
them off her arms, her neck, her ears; running her hands along her head to remove great handfuls of them; tossing each precious piece at him.

“You must marry me,” Joby cried. “I cannot live without you. You are what I have been looking for all my life. Next to you, emeralds are dark; they do not twinkle as brightly as your eyes. Pearls have no luster next to your skin. Diamonds cannot—”

She broke off because Jamie grabbed the worn cushion from under him and threw it at her, hitting her squarely on her flat chest.

Catching it, she clasped it tightly. “This is from my most beautiful beloved. He … Oh, heavens, but he
sat
on it. That most tender part of him has touched it. Would that my eyes and lips could share what this lowly cushion has—”

This time she stopped because Jamie had bounded over the table and clasped his hand over her mouth. She nipped his little finger with her sharp teeth, and taken in surprise, he released his grip on her.

“His arms about me,” she said loudly. “I shall die from the pleasure of it.”

“You shall die if you do not shut up,” Jamie said. “Where have you learned such things as you have said? No, do not tell me. But if you have no care for my own delicate sensibilities, think how you shock your dear sister.”

Joby peeped around the great bulk of her brother to see her sister's lovely face flushed with merriment. It suited her and her sister to pretend that Berengaria was as innocent and as angelic as she looked. The truth was that Joby was completely honest with her sister, often keeping her up half the night with
tales of her latest escapade.

“Go!” Jamie commanded, motioning his arm to include everyone in the room. “Your ridicule of me is at an end. Tell me, little sister, what did you do for entertainment when I was not here to make merry of?”

Never at a loss for words, Joby said, “It was a solemn household. With only Father and Edward—” She broke off, the back of her hand going to her mouth.

For a moment there was silence in the worn, old hall as everyone seemed to have forgotten that just two days ago they had attended a double funeral. Technically, the household was in mourning, deep mourning, for the loss of the father and the eldest son of this branch of the Montgomery family. But the son, Edward, had never shared in the simple joys of family life, and their father had been absent, barricaded in his room at the top of the tower. It was difficult to weep for people who you rarely saw or, in Edward's case, did not miss.

“Yes,” Jamie said calmly. “I think it is time we remembered what we are about.” With his back rigid, he walked around the table to escort Berengaria from the room.

It was only minutes later that he was alone with his sister.

“Why did someone not tell me?” Jamie asked, standing before the tiny, crumbling window in Berengaria's room. Reaching out his hand, he broke a piece of stone away. Water damage. Years ago, while he'd been away, the lead gutters had been sold off the old stone keep, so the water seeped into the stone.

Turning, he looked at his sister as she sat serenely on her cushioned chair, a chair more suited for a peasant's hut than what had once been the keep of a proud and glorious estate.
“Why did no one tell me?” he asked again.

Berengaria opened her mouth to give the explanation she'd planned to give, but instead, she told the truth. “Pride. That great Montgomery curse of pride.” She hesitated, then smiled. “That pride that is now making your stomach churn and bringing out the sweat on your brow. Tell me, are you toying with the dagger Father gave you?”

For a moment Jamie didn't know what she was talking about but then realized that he was indeed holding the beautiful golden-handled dagger his father had given him long ago. The jewels in the hilt had been replaced with glass years ago, but if the dagger were held just so in the sunlight, one could see the gold that still coated the steel handle.

He gave a laugh. “I had forgotten how well you know me.” With one easy movement, he sat on a cushion at her feet and leaned his head against her knee, closing his eyes in pleasure as she stroked his hair.

“I never saw any woman who could compare with you in beauty,” he said softly.

“Is that not a vain thing for you to say as we are twins?”

He kissed her hand. “I am old and ugly and scarred, whereas you are untouched by time.”

“Untouched is true,” she said, trying to make a joke about her virginity.

But Jamie did not smile. Instead, he put his hand up before her face.

“It is no use,” she said, smiling sweetly, catching his hand. “I cannot see lighted twigs before my face. There is no sight for me, and no man wants a blind wife. For all the use I am to the world, it would have been better had I died at birth.”

The violence with which Jamie arose startled her. “Oh, Jamie, I am sorry. I did not mean—It was thoughtless of me. Please, come sit down again. Let me touch you. Please.”

He sat down again, but his heart was pounding. Pounding with guilt. He and his sister were twins, but Jamie had been quite a bit bigger than his sister and so had taken hours to be born. When Berengaria was finally allowed out, the umbilical cord was found to be wrapped around her neck, and it was soon discovered that she was blind. The midwife said it was Jamie's fault for taking so long to be born, so all his life Jamie had lived with the guilt of what he'd done to his beautiful sister.

And all their lives he had been close to her, never once losing patience with her or tiring of her company. He helped her in everything, encouraging her to climb trees, to walk miles into the hills, even to ride a horse alone.

Only their brother, Edward, thought Jamie less than a saint for helping his blind sister. Whenever anyone remarked on how good Jamie was to give up time with his rowdy boyhood companions to take his blind sister berry picking, their older brother would say, “He stole her sight, didn't he? Why shouldn't he do what he can to give it back to her?”

Jamie took a deep breath. “So no one told me what Edward was doing out of pride?” he said, coming back to the present. Guilt still weighed him down. Guilt over leaving his sister who needed him so much, guilt for what had happened after he left.

“You must cease this flagellation of yourself,” Berengaria said, pulling Jamie's thick black hair with both her hands, making his head come back so he looked up at her. It was difficult to believe that those perfect, lushly lashed blue eyes
of hers could not see.

“If you give me a look of pity, I shall snatch you bald,” she said, pulling harder.

“Ow!” He laughed as she released his hair, then he pulled one of her hands to his chest and kissed it. “I cannot help the guilt I feel. I knew what Father and Edward were like.”

“Yes,” Berengaria said with a grimace. “Father never took his nose out of a book if he could help it, and Edward was a pig. There wasn't a village girl over the age of ten who was safe from him. He died young because the devil liked him so well he wanted him near him forever.”

In spite of himself, Jamie laughed. “How very much I have missed you these months.”

“Years, my dear brother. Years.”

“Why do women always remember the most inconsequential of details?”

She tweaked his ear and made him yelp. “Now stop telling me of your women and tell me of this task you have taken on.”

“How kind you are. How you make escorting a rich heiress across the country sound like a knight's holy quest.”

“It is if
you
are involved. How Edward and you could be brothers bewilders me.”

“As he was born five months after our parents' marriage, I sometimes wonder who his father was,” Jamie said with great cynicism.

Had anyone else said this, Berengaria would have defended her dear mother, whose mind had long ago slipped away. “One time I asked Mother about that.”

Jamie was surprised. “And what did she say?”

“She waved her hand and said, ‘There were so many lovely
young men that summer I'm afraid I cannot remember who was what.' ”

The maleness in Jamie reacted first, making anger surge through him, but he knew his mother too well to take offense and so relaxed and smiled. “If her family found she was pregnant, who better to marry her to than Father? I can hear his mother, ‘Come, dear, put down that book. It's time to get married.' ”

“Do you think he read on his wedding night? Oh, Jamie, do you think
we
are … ?” Her eyes widened.

“Even scholars put down their books at times. Besides, look you at us and our cousins. We are alike. And Joby is the mirror image of Father.”