The Heiress (37 page)

She continued her story. “I was trying to make Henry like me, so I told him that I was the one who had painted the dragon wagon. Oh, I was so afraid on the journey south. When I realized he was not the one Axia, uh …” She glanced nervously from Axia to Jamie.

“He knows,” Axia supplied, nodding toward Jamie.

“Anyway,” Frances continued, “Henry thought I was the greatest painter in the world; I just hoped I'd never have to prove it. So later when he locked me away, it seemed natural to him for me to ask for paints, especially since I was so afraid—and so alone. Only Tode was allowed in twice to try to cheer me up. If it hadn't been for him, I …” At that she looked away and blushed.

Which made Axia look in consternation from Frances to Tode to Berengaria, whose mouth was now in a prim little line.

Frances continued. “I thought for days of some way to get out but could think of nothing, as Henry came personally to give me my food. Perhaps I could have persuaded another man, but not Henry. Once he has his mind made up, nothing changes it.”

Pausing, she smiled at her audience. “Then I thought,
What
would Axia do?
and I remembered all those painted doors. So I begged Henry for pigments, so I could make myself some paints. Just as I've seen you do so often, Axia. When he gave them to me, I stayed up all night and painted three doors on the walls of my room and one window, complete with a bird on the sill.”

She looked at Axia, her eyes sparkling. “And out the window was a field full of daisies. I've seen Axia paint a good number of daisies, so I was rather good at painting them,” she said with a laugh, looking at Axia's pink face. “Then I painted the back of the real door to look like the stone of the wall.”

She looked in apology to Axia. “My painting wasn't very good, but Henry's eyesight was so poor that I thought I might be able to fool him long enough to escape.”

“And it did fool him,” Jamie said, making everyone turn to look at him. “I did not dare to try to escape from the tunnels myself for fear of what would be done to Frances if they found me gone. But after several days, I heard the guards gossiping that she had escaped, but there seemed to be some great secret attached to her method of escape. However, with some persuasion, I coaxed the guard to tell me all. Henry Oliver opened the door to Frances's room, only to see her lying on the bed, silent and not moving. But when he went to the bed, Frances was hiding behind the door, so she slipped out and shut the door behind her. Oliver then spent hours in that room, wandering around trying to open painted doors and the window. Truthfully, he thought it was the most wondrous thing he'd ever seen, and he wasn't at all upset that Frances had escaped.” Looking at Axia, his eyes twinkled. “He swore he could smell the daisies.”

Axia was too busy thinking to smile. She did not have to be told that the reason he had been whipped was because Frances had escaped. “But his brother was not amused,” Axia said softly, reaching out to touch Jamie's hair.

“True,” Jamie said softly, “his brother was very angry.” For a moment he looked at Axia with love, letting his eyes talk for him, telling her the things he had not yet had time to say to her. While he had been in that prison, he realized that he had never told her how much he loved her. He had thought of her all the time he was in there, thought of how much she had come to mean to him. Part of him wanted to murder her for endangering herself in attempting to rescue him, but another part of him loved her more for it.

Tonight, he thought. Tonight he would hold her in his arms, they would have privacy, and he'd tell her how he felt.

Now,” he said, rising, “it is growing dark, and I think we should all go home.”

Frances was the first to rise, and when she started clearing the camp, again Axia watched her in wonder. When they had been traveling north in the wagons, Frances had never once lifted a hand to help. And when they had lived on the Maidenhall estate, she had seemed incapable of doing anything.

“I do not understand,” Axia said softly when she and Frances were some distance from the others.

“You do not understand what?”

“How … ?” Axia tried to recover herself. “Frances, you are the most helpless person I have ever met, yet you have managed to escape a kidnapping and you have fed us as well as yourself and you have—”

Frances's laugh cut her off. “Axia, I am not helpless.”

“But you—You …”

Frances looked Axia square in the eyes. “I just pretended to be helpless because that is what you need. You love helpless people.”

“I what?” Axia said, half in anger, half in disbelief.

“Axia, you are terrified that no one will ever love you or like you just for yourself. No matter how much someone loves you, you always think it is because of your father's money. When I arrived at your estate, I was just a child, but I had been through more horror than most people endure in a lifetime. And I had decided that I was going to be anything you wanted me to be so I would not be sent back to my father.”

“And you think I needed you to be helpless,” Axia said with heavy sarcasm.

“Oh yes, Axia. You must feel ‘useful' as you call it. You always feel that you have to show people that you are worth more than your father's money, and you do that by working your little fingers to the bone. Please do not get me wrong, you are so very useful that you make everyone around you feel helpless. It is so much easier to sit back and let you do everything.”

When Axia managed to quit sputtering, her mouth hardened. “And is it also my fault that you extorted money out of me for all those years? You never gave me the time of day unless I paid you.”

“True,” Frances said cheerfully, “and I still have every penny of it. Axia, you do have the most amazing ability to earn money. And I am sure you will be the perfect wife for Jamie, what with his blind sister, and that boyish girl, Joby, you will have a
lifetime of being useful.” She smiled. “I am sure, Axia, that in no time at all you will have them all rolling in money. You'll find ways to turn air into gold—just like your father.”

For a moment, Axia was too stunned to speak. She couldn't comprehend what Frances was saying. “Everything is changing,” she whispered. “You have changed. Tode has changed.”

“Yes,” Frances said, her face losing its smile as she glanced quickly at Tode as he helped Berengaria brush her skirt off. Her voice lowered. “Tode humiliated himself in front of Oliver, making the basest jokes about his face and body. It was awful to hear and worse to watch.”

She took a breath as though trying to calm something inside her. “He did that for
me
. I always thought he hated me or at least cared nothing about me, but he was—” Quickly, she looked at Tode over her shoulder and closed her mouth.

“He is different,” Axia said. “I cannot put my finger on it, but there is something different about him.” She looked back at her cousin. “As you are different. What has happened to change the two of you so much?”

“Axia,” Frances whispered urgently, grabbing her arm. “I must tell you something. It is very important, and I must tell you before—”

But she never finished her sentence because at that moment Joby came running back toward them. Unbeknownst to Frances and Axia, Jamie had heard horses approaching and had sent Joby to see who they were, all of them hoping the riders were their Montgomery cousins.

“It is Maidenhall himself?” Joby said jubilantly, arms waving, “And he comes now. For his daughter!”

Neither Frances nor Axia had time to think or speak. They merely entwined hands tightly and looked toward where Joby was pointing. Stepping through the trees was a man neither woman had ever seen before but who they knew well. For years Axia had asked every visitor to the estate what her father looked like, and through their descriptions, she had drawn many, many pictures of him, even painted a couple of oils.

Now there was no mistaking the fact that the short, thin man coming toward them, wearing his shabby black wool robe, his lank gray hair hanging to his shoulders, was Perkin Maidenhall—the richest man in England.

Unerringly, he walked straight to Axia. “Well, daughter, what do you have to say for yourself?” His eyes were cold, his voice showing his barely controlled anger.

W
hen neither Axia nor Frances seemed able to speak, Perkin Maidenhall said, “Come, daughter,” then turned his back as though he expected her to follow him and started toward his men, who were rapidly surrounding the little campground.

“I believe you are in error,” Jamie said, amusement in his voice, as he slipped his arm around his wife. “This is not your daughter.”

Maidenhall turned to look at Jamie as though just now seeing him. He was a small man, with eyes like black glass, and as he turned his hard stare at Jamie, the younger man could see why it was reputed that he had never been bested in a deal.

“Are you saying that I do not know my own daughter?”

Jamie's arm tightened about Axia's shoulders.
“This
woman is my wife.”

At that Maidenhall threw back his head and gave a laugh, an ugly, rusty sound that showed that laughter was not something he was much practiced at. “And what do you think you have done? Married the Maidenhall heiress? You? Poor James Montgomery? James Lackland should be your name.”

Instinctively, Jamie's hand went to the sword at his side, but as he moved, what now looked to be three hundred men, some on horseback, some on foot, all drew their swords and aimed them toward him.

“Please,” Axia said, moving out of Jamie's evertightening grip. “I must speak to my father.”

“Your—?” Jamie said in consternation, then his face changed. “I see,” he said. “So this is your great secret. Did you think I was such a mercenary that I would change if I knew of your great wealth? Is this what you thought of me?”

Maidenhall answered before Axia could. “But it is what you wanted, is it not? At first you courted poor cousin Frances, but later your attention turned to my true daughter.” He looked at Axia. “Have you never asked yourself why? Why would he stop courting a woman as beautiful as Frances and turn his attention to a plain, drab little thing like you?”

It was as though he were reading her mind, for it is exactly what Axia had wondered.

“I do not know what you are insinuating—” Jamie began, but Maidenhall cut him off.

“I am saying, my lord,” he sneered the words, “that you found out the game played by two foolish girls and immediately changed your attentions to the one who was to be my heir.”

“I did not …” Jamie trailed off, because as he spoke, he
looked into Axia's eyes and knew that she believed her father, or at least there was doubt there. He dropped his arm from around her, his pride damaged.

Axia spoke for the first time. “I want to speak to my father alone,” she managed to say.

“Yes,” Jamie said angrily. “As you
are
the daughter to the great Maidenhall, of course, you must speak to him.”

“Jamie,” she said, her hand on his arm, but he turned away, so she walked into the trees with her father.

Perkin Maidenhall was short, and his eyes were on a level with his daughter's.

“What do you want?” she said coldly. All her life she had wanted to meet her father. She had worked in every way at pleasing him, but now that he was here, she could see nothing in his eyes. Nothing but money, that is. It was true what Frances had always taunted: her father had never met her because he had never had a way to make money from her—until now.

At his daughter's curt tone, Maidenhall allowed a bit of a smile. “I'd heard that you were like me, and now I can see it.”

“Do not insult me,” she said quickly. “Talk to me about money. How much is involved?”

He did not hesitate. “I have a contract with Bolingbrooke, and you must honor it.”

“I am now defective goods; I am no longer a virgin, so I am not worth the bride price.”

“That is all right since Bolingbrooke's son is impotent. If you are with child, I will charge him more for giving him an heir.”

At the callousness of that remark, Axia blanched.

“What's the matter, daughter? Did you not believe what you had heard of me? Did you think I was actually a sweet little man with a fondness for dogs and small children?”

Axia had hoped that perhaps he would have been sweet to her, his only child, but she could see that this man had never loved anyone in his life. Rarely had she seen eyes as hard and unfeeling as his.

Pulling herself up, she stood straighter. If she was to survive this, she must use everything that she had inherited from him. “I am married to him.”

Maidenhall gave a snort of laughter. “It was but a moment's work to have that marriage voided. You did not have my permission; you misrepresented yourself when you married him.” His eyes glittered. “In truth I think you will find that the parish register recording your marriage has mysteriously disappeared and the clergyman has now moved to France. I think you would be hard-pressed to prove your marriage ever took place.”

It took Axia a moment to recover herself. In her daily life and since she had left the estate, she had been able to make any bargain she wanted. She had always found it easy to persuade people to her way of thinking. But now, looking into the heartless eyes of her father, she knew she had more than met her match.

She took a breath. “What will you do to him if I do not go with you?”

Maidenhall again gave his rusty little laugh. “Is it love, daughter? I would have thought I had taught you better than that. I took away everyone you could love except a deformed
man and a girl who had a heart as dried up as her face was beautiful.”

Standing back, he looked Axia up and down. “I must say that I am disappointed in you. You believed yourself in love with the first beautiful man you saw. I wondered if you could resist a face such as his. He is—”