The Rake's Rainbow (12 page)

Anger blazed in a red haze. She had taken control of Crawley. Not only that, she had the temerity to effect more progress in three weeks than he would have expected in three months. His own efforts seemed paltry in comparison. Her dedication to the success of their partnership contrasted badly with his behavior with Alicia.

Damnation!

How dare she overstep her place?
he fumed as he stomped upstairs to be greeted by a bedroom glowing with rich reds and blues (his favorite colors), a better shaving stand ensconced in the corner, and an invitingly comfortable chair drawn up to a welcoming fire. New wallcoverings set off a pair of unfamiliar paintings.

He threw himself across the bed, its unexpectedly soft mattress igniting another wave of fury. Curses flowed freely, lurid enough to burn the ears of the soldiers working outside. All his anger and guilt focused on this new target. Insufferably managing female!  Ladies did not trespass on gentlemen’s preserves. How many times had his mother uttered that very statement? 

“A lady does not interfere in a gentleman’s business, Emily,” she would declare. “You may be intelligent and better educated than most, but you can never understand a gentleman’s affairs. Nor should you try unless you desire the social censure and ostracism handed out to those who choose bluestocking pursuits over proper ladylike decorum. So never question a gentleman’s judgment.”

Crawley’s transformation was amazing, but she had no business meddling in the estate operation. And certainly no business doing it well. He would be the laughingstock of London if this got out. Thomas Mannering and his paragon of a wife!  He’d never be able to set foot in his club again.

But guilt returned and he buried his face in his hands. Who else was in a position to run Crawley? demanded his conscience. The incompetent Tibbins?  Jacobs, who was performing the work of two or three men already?  The Honourable Thomas Mannering who forgot all responsibility once his eyes encountered Alicia, who preferred dishonorable dalliance to duty, who had undoubtedly called the wrath of God down upon his head, and who had made such a miserable mess of his life he could scarce hold his head up in public?  Where had he gone wrong?  How could his love for someone so noble recoil into something so base? 

Anger, guilt, frustration, longing ... Emotion battled in his head until he dropped into exhausted slumber.

He awakened late in the afternoon to numbed unreality. Cramer brought bathwater in answer to his summons.

“Has my wife returned?” he asked, tossing his crushed cravat and shirt onto the chair.

“Mrs. Mannering is in the drawing room entertaining guests,” the valet responded stiffly. “Will you be joining them, sir?”

“Perhaps. Who is here?”

“Neighbors, I understand.”

“Ah.”  He slid into the warm bath. “That will be all, Cramer. Lay out the blue jacket and embroidered waistcoat for dinner. I will wear the brown now.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thomas tried to calm his mind as he relaxed in his bath. But try as he might, he could neither identify his problems nor decide how to approach Caroline. His brain was in a state of chaos. Wearily, he toweled off and donned clean clothes. Not until he finished tying his cravat did he notice that Caroline’s toiletries were gone. Lunging through their respective dressing rooms, he halted in amazement in the connecting doorway.

Her room was awash in golds and greens. A patterned carpet in those colors set the tone, with gold velvet draperies, green walls, and vibrantly lustrous oak furniture reflecting the warm afternoon sunlight. Not until he had continued into her sitting room did he realize that none of the furniture matched, and she had settled for painted walls. Clearly she had expended no money on herself. Fury again flared, but he could not explain why. He stared for several minutes, unable to discern the cause for either anger or frustration.

The root of his problem, of course, was his love for Alicia. It had precipitated the crisis resulting in his unwanted marriage and had led to his own dishonorable behavior and subsequent guilt. He had abandoned his responsibilities to sit in her pocket, for her presence kept him at Graystone at least a sennight longer than he would otherwise have stayed. She was the epitome of his ideal wife – beautiful, talented, passionate, yet needing the protection and care of a strong male – a prize to engender envy in the breast of every acquaintance. Caroline approached that ideal only in passion. An admitted bluestocking, in his absence she revealed herself to be managing and competent to an unladylike degree. And alarmingly independent.

In his present mood, he declined to join the company in the drawing room, instead stalking off to the stables. He did observe as he passed, that she was entertaining two gentlemen and three ladies. Anger again flared. The men were young, good looking, and hanging on her every word. She had lost no time in ingratiating herself with the local gentry.

Two strange carriages were drawn up in the stable yard.

“Whose are those?” he asked as Jacobs appeared in the door.

“That one belongs to Squire Perkins, guv. ‘E an’ ‘is wife an’ Miz Barlow is visitin’ with the missus. T’other belongs to Vicar Stokes an’ ‘is sister.”

Negligible callers. She should not get too chummy with them, for they were beneath the dignity of her new position. Dismissing them, he turned his attention to business.

“The stables and paddocks are impressive,” he complimented. “You’ve done well.”

“Thank ye kindly, though ‘tweren’t all my doin’. The missus sent Bob an’ Ted down to Willy with orders to start on the fences afore ever I returned. Later she added Jim an’ Mac to the crew. For all their problems, they work ‘ard.”

“Problems?”  He beat down another surge of ire at his wife’s meddling. The results were odiously impressive.

“Cor, guv, I forgets ye don’t know ‘em. Bob’s got a bum leg, Mac’s ‘ip was shot up, Jem took a bullet in the chest that left ‘im short-winded, an’ Ted lost an arm. I didn’t much like hirin’ cripples, guv, but the missus talked me into givin’ ‘em a chance, an’ damned if I weren’t impressed. Ye got yerself a jewel, beggin’ yer pardon. She’s got an ‘eart as big as the earth an’ the sense to match.”

Thomas let this remark go unanswered, instead making a detailed examination of the stable and each of his horses. He paused when he came to the one sorry beast who had come with the estate.

“Now that my cattle are all here, we might as well get rid of Dobbin.”

“I wouldn’t just yet, guv,” ventured Jacobs. “The missus uses ‘im with the dogcart. ‘E’s steady an’ too slow to bolt with ‘er. She’s got a sweet touch on the ribbons, but ain’t ‘ad ‘nough practice to let out alone even with Ajax,” he concluded, naming the gentlest of the carriage horses.

Thomas shuddered. He must find something better for Caroline to drive. Having her plodding around the neighborhood with Dobbin and a dogcart would do nothing to enhance his consequence. Nor would it aid the reputation of his stables.

But planning was difficult for he could not think clearly. His head swirled – anger at the disruption of his life, irritation at Caroline’s independence, chagrin that her accomplishments exceeded his own, guilt over his indiscretions, horror at his treatment of Alicia, longing to hold her again. By the time he entered the drawing room before dinner, his internal war manifested itself as chilly formality.

“Good evening, Caroline.”  No trace of charm warmed the aloof voice.

“Good evening, Thomas. I trust you had a pleasant trip.”  She chose to be cordial, unsure whether his demeanor stemmed from weariness or anger that she was not Alicia. She had hoped that he would join them while her callers remained. It was time he became acquainted with the neighbors. But she had not missed his black look as he stomped past the drawing room.

“Quite productive.”  The suspicion that her felicitations harbored both sarcasm and full knowledge of his activities added chilliness to his tone. “You have been busy, I see. The house is improved.”

“Thank you.”

“When does Tibbins return?”

“Tomorrow.”  Should she enumerate her problems with the infuriating bailiff?  But he hardly seemed receptive so she remained silent.

“Good. I found a replacement. Talbert arrives next week.”

Peters announced dinner, which they consumed in near silence.

Thomas joined her in bed that evening. Resolved to protect her heart, she welcomed him with appropriate enthusiasm but divorced her mind from the proceedings. He hardly noticed her limited response. Each touch sent images of Alicia blasting through his mind leaving guilt and loathing in their wake. Caught in his own hell of recrimination he brought the encounter to a rapid conclusion and thankfully returned to his own bed. Both lay awake long into the night, dissatisfaction clouding their respective analyses of the future.

* * * *

That day set the tone for the weeks that followed. Talbert proved to be a hardworking, talented steward, able to effect as many miracles on the estate as Caroline. Within days, the two men finalized plans for the spring planting and agreed on priorities. Thereafter, Thomas left operations in Talbert’s hands, meeting briefly with him each morning to discuss problems but otherwise directing his attentions elsewhere.

He threw himself heart and soul into the stables. Burned by his lapse with Alicia, disenchanted and resentful of his forced marriage, he turned his obsessive energy to horses. Willy Larkin had proved to be an adept manager and now occupied the position of head groom, with two boys working under him in addition to the contingent of soldiers effecting repairs. Jacobs and Thomas spent long hours together training the young horses from Graystone and several others acquired on additional buying trips. He discovered an ability to concentrate on the painstaking task of schooling a raw horse to the exclusion of all else, finally reaching – for those hours, at least – the nepenthe he had so long sought from pain and disillusionment.

His relations with Caroline remained coolly formal. They seldom met at breakfast and he never returned for lunch, so contact was limited to dinner. Conversation centered on Crawley, but without the exchange of ideas that had characterized their first week. She occasionally mentioned neighbors, but he rarely responded. Afterward, he retired to the library to continue his course of study, losing himself in books on estate management and horses as another way of holding the world at bay.

A week elapsed before he again joined her in bed. Fearful of a repetition of their last encounter, he carefully focused his mind elsewhere until he obtained the necessary release and returned to his room. He would have been horrified to learn that he had treated his wife worse than the lowest of his casual liaisons, for even deeply in his cups he had worked to involve his partners, but such a thought never entered his mind. However the experience offered so little satisfaction that he repeated it only when absolutely necessary.

Caroline’s welcome for his return quickly faded as she accepted that cool formality would be the norm in the future. It did not require much thought to conclude that his love for Alicia still flourished and that a fortnight in her company had left him resentful of his forced marriage. Despite Alicia’s own marriage, his wife must be the symbol of his loss. Any immediate hope of friendship was gone. It would be months or even years before such a chance might reappear. In the meantime, she must build a life that did not depend on his assistance, or even his presence.

She threw herself into caring for the house and the tenants. Rapidly discovering that Thomas no longer accepted her suggestions, she learned to take problems to Talbert. When two more soldiers came to her for jobs, it was Talbert who officially hired them. When she discovered that the Griggs’s roof had been damaged in a heavy storm, Talbert juggled the priorities to effect an immediate repair. He instinctively understood that all was not well between the Mannerings and never mentioned her involvement to Thomas, even while offering her suggestions for his approval.

As conditions at Crawley improved, she found extra time on her hands. Finances precluded extensive decorating. Thomas welcomed no interest in Crawley outside the manor itself. Nor did he spend even a minute more than necessary in her company. She filled the hours by furthering her friendships with neighboring gentry and by spending long periods in the still room concocting remedies. The thanks she received from grateful tenants made her efforts seem worthwhile and almost compensated for the dearth of compliments from Thomas, who rarely acknowledged her efforts. Evenings she devoted to music, able to lose herself and banish the world while at the keyboard.

Thomas’s increasingly rare excursions to her bed offered no comfort. Even more aloof than at dinner, he took no interest in her needs, instead accomplishing his purpose quickly and in silence. Unable to tolerate comparisons between this cold stranger and the seductive charmer of before, she learned to divorce her mind from the proceedings, lying quietly until he had left and then concentrating fiercely on other things lest she cry herself to sleep.

This last tendency was profoundly disturbing. Unwilling to admit even in the deepest recesses of her mind that she might have formed a
tendre
for her husband, she daily concentrated on his faults. His heart was committed to Alicia. He resented their marriage and was bent on blaming her. This possibility had worried her briefly at their first meeting, but she had thought his father’s edict and the conditions of his inheritance would prevent it. However, he seemed to have forgotten his escape from the undesirable Miss Huntsley. Far worse were the comparisons with his beloved Alicia which she could never hope to overcome. With little hope that he would undergo a change of heart, she was forced to accept the bleakest of futures.
Dear God, why did you let him fall in love with someone he could not wed? 

As Thomas’s activities fell into a predictable routine, he also found it harder to keep thought at bay. He firmly stifled memories of those early evenings when Caroline had joined him in the library, her calm presence and intelligent conversation enlivening his studies. Or of the pleasure to be found when a passionate, willing woman shared his bed. Still determined to vent his frustrations on her, he would entertain no approval. She represented the antithesis of what his wife should be.