The Willows (11 page)

Edith turned beet red, then raised her
chin in the air. “Pardon us if it’s not up to your fine Boston
standards, but we find it a good honest meal and quite
filling.”

“
Filling?” Gwen kept digging
through the pile of food, hoping against hope to find shrimp. “I
cannot eat this.”

“
Then starve.”

Uncle Jervis said lightly, drawing
their attention to him. “Girls, please. Do try it, Gwen. After all,
Edith is trying her best.”

With amazement, Gwen looked back to her
cousin. “You’ve fixed this? But you do not know how to
cook.”

“
I had to learn. Lavinia
comes up lame most evenings now. It we want to eat someone has to
do the cooking.”

Her cousin should have spent longer at
her lessons, Gwen thought angrily, eyeing her plate. She had wanted
gumbo, not this.

Unable to come up with a name for the
meal, she was tentatively bringing the fort to her lips, wondering
if she’d be able to swallow it, when Homer entered the dining room.
She put the fork down gladly, as the servant announced that someone
awaited in the hall to see uncle.

“
We’ve just sat down to
dinner,” her uncle said, making a shooing motion with his
hand.

“
The man, he say the matter
was urgent,” Homer insisted.

Muttering under his breath, uncle
Jervis rose to his feet. Homer held the door open for him as he
stormed from the room.

Across the table, Edith’s gaze followed
her father’s departure, a tiny smile forming on her lips. Lance
merely refilled his glass, as if the intrusion was nothing out of
the ordinary, but Gwen brand with curiosity. It took a desperate
man, or an incredibly rude one, to barge in demanding an audience
at the dinner hour.

“
On your honor?” A voice
erupted in the hallway. “I should be satisfied with
that?”

When tensed, recognizing the voice of
Michael. Surely the man was not so lost propriety that he would
come seeking her here in her own home?

“
Might as well after the
moon,” Rafe went on, with anger. “I have yet to know a McCloud to
keep his word.”

Lance, to0, seemed unnerved by the
man’s presence, for he stiffened beside her. Knowing who their
visitor was, she could understand Lance’s nervousness. He must hate
knowing that there had been someone you best him in a fair fight.
Pre-haps they had been children, but he must he wondering, even as
she was, if Michael could best him again.

“
Who do you think you are?”
Jervis sputtered. “How dare you come into my home and speak thus to
me. Get off my land at once.”

“
Your land? I was under the
impression the Willows still belonged to your brother.”

“
It most assuredly does”
came in third, more distinctive voice. The hoarseness was gone; her
father’s assertion boomed in the hallway. Gwen smiled for she could
picture her uncle bridging, having been caught once again playing
the Lord of his brothers manor.

“
I am still master of this
house, sir,” John said, this time almost conversationally. “Is
there some way I can help you?”

“
This is the Williams boy,
John.” Jervis broke and quickly, “here to stir up trouble. You go
on back to your study and let me get rid of them. I know better how
to deal with his kind.”

Gwen winced. “His kind.” Hearing Jervis
utter the words, they didn’t seem quite so harmless. Indeed, she’d
begun to see how Michael might despise them.

“
I repeat,” daddy said
sharply, “is there some way I can help you, sir?”

There was a pause, during which Gwen
hoped Michael would enlighten them all as to why he was here. “This
is between your brother and me,” said at last. “It’s is a private
manner that will soon be resolved, one way or another. You have my
word on that.”

Hearing the front door slam, Gwen
frowned in frustration. How like Michael to leave without
elaborating on why he had come to the house. “What a disagreeable
man,” she said that instant she realized Lance was staring at
her.

“
Michael is a proud fool.”
Frowning, Lance reached his glass. “I imagine he feels your father
still owes him a living. I don’t suppose you ladies recall, but his
father David, was once a tenant farmer here.”

Gwen intended ignorance. She saw no
reason to let Lance think she remembered anything about his
humiliating defeat.

“
I remember his mother,”
Edith said. “Such a lovely woman, and Amanda used to say it must be
hard on her, so recently widowed and forced to find a new place for
her and her children to live.”

Gwen stared at her in amazement, for
she had known nothing about the family, spite being a few years her
cousin’s senior. But then, Edith always did have a knack for
finding information.

“
No choice but to order his
family off,” Lance grumbled on. “Even before the husband’s death,
they had been failing on their rent. How could his wife hope to
manage without him? No one blamed John, except Michael, but then,
the boy always had ideas above his station. No doubt he has in
nursing a grudge all these years.”

“
Is that all he wants, to
lease our land?” When asked, remembering her plan to generate
income. “Maybe uncle should not be arguing with him. Why risk
pushing away someone who is willing to pay us rent?”

“
What nonsense is
this?”

Unnerved by Lance’s obvious scorn, she
toyed with her food. “It is just… Well, I thought, if we rented out
land again, the money might buy the cane and the servants and other
things we need to get the Willlows back on its feet.”

Lance smiled indulgently. “Oh darling,
don’t fret your pretty little head over money. Didn’t we tell you
to trust your menfolk to take care of such matters?”

“
You might better apply
yourself to learning how to cook and sew,” Edith told her smugly.
“Women don’t have a head for business.

Gwen sat up in her chair. “I happen to
think it’s a good plan.”

Lance shook his head sadly. “Honey?
What would your unc-er , daddy want with some no-account folk
littering up his land? Those rents would hardly be worth the
bother, not with the work needed to get the shacks habitable.
Besides, it is not exactly a gentlemanly occupation, living off
rents. People expect the McCloud’s to be planters, not landlords.”
Seeing her frown, he added with a smile, “Though I must say, it was
sweet of you to suggest it. If you want, I will mention your little
plan to your uncle. I imagine he will appreciate knowing your heart
is in the right place.”

As he patted her hand, Gwen bristled.
It was true, she had not thought it all the way through, and she
did not much like the idea of the men laughing at her when they
retired for their smoke after dinner. “Do not bother,” she said
stiffly, returning her attention to pushing her food about the
plate, “if you think it is such a terrible idea.”

Jervis suddenly swung open the dining
room door. “Look everyone,” said loudly as he gestured behind him
to his brother. “See who is joining us for dinner?”

Gwen forgot her plans, stunned to see
her father. It must be a rare occasion for John McCloud to sit down
to a family meal, for everyone acted too delighted, too eager to
please him, even while it was obvious they wished she had decided
elsewhere.

Feeling guilty that she must include
herself in their number, Gwen watched her daddy limp to the head of
the table, tottering on his cane. He tried sit and would have
missed the chair completely, had Homer not pushed it behind him, a
process so skilled and swift, it spoke of long practice. The part
servants must be over-accustomed to covering his master’s
limitations.

Seeing this, Gwen stared at this
stranger inhabiting her father’s body. It had been difficult to
face his rejection this afternoon, but she found it far worse to
watch him now. Laughing too loud, he ignored Edith’s cooking,
choosing instead fill up on alcohol. His brother, Gwen noticed with
resentment, did nothing to stop him, but then, Jervis was drinking
quite freely himself.

They began reminiscing about the past,
acting as if the room still held its lovely furnishings and that
nasty scene in the hallway had never happened. A confused Gwen
wondered if she had merely imagined Michael’s presence, if his
threatening tone was merely a guilt-provoked prodding from the
past.

The talk strayed too earlier years,
when both brothers have been youths on their parents’ plantation in
Virginia. “Remember the tournaments,” Jervis said slowly. “Can’t
know how frustrating it was for me, trying my damnedest, yet
knowing my big brother was bound to win.”

Daddy chuckled, and in that moment,
Gwen saw a ghost of his former self.

“
Go on, laugh, but tell the
truth, John. Was there ever a man who could best you at the
tournament?”

“
No, I suppose not.” Daddy
stared into his glass, as if he could see the past within the dark
liquid. “I retired as champion when I left home.”

“
Just like our young Lance
here. A shame, really, that the Willows’ own tournaments had to
end.”

Daddy was not listening to his brother.
“I remember that last tournament,” he said, his voice as distant as
his gaze. “The one where I won my Amanda.”

Another awkward silence ensued. It was
ever thus when mother’s name was mentioned.

But it could be a good sign, Gwen
thought hopefully. If John talked about his beloved wife, perhaps
his grief could begin to heal. He could stop drinking, and perhaps
even forgive his daughter.

“
I recall that day.” Jervis
grinned at his brother. “No one expected you to show-by then, you’d
gone off to Louisiana start your own plantation. My hopes were
high, since the field was now wide open, but I should have known my
big brother would never miss tournament.”

“
How could I, with my Amanda
offering herself as the prize?”

Gwen had heard this story a thousand
times, but she never tired of listening to it. It seemed so
wonderfully romantic that her father would ride all that distance
merely to claim his bride.

“
Lovely Amanda Maitland,”
Jervis side, yet sound held a bitter sound. “Was there a buck among
us would not battle to win her? Though many of us would have
bothered to enter the lists, I had been aware that she had written
to you? She knew you. She knew you would win.”

“
That was my Amanda.” With a
sigh of his own, daddy chugged his glass. “Knew what she wanted,
and ultimately found a way to get it.” He frowned, starts going
inward.

“
I say,” Jervis said
suddenly, “wouldn’t another turn them it be fun?”

Daddy snorted, reaching for the bottle
to refill his glass. “Who would calm? For that matter, how would we
pay for it?”

“
I reckon we could draw a
large enough crowd, if we offered a prize.”

All eyes went to her father. He merely
stared at Jervis, glass stuck midway to his lips. “What have you
got brewing in that devious head of yours now, brother?” He said at
last, finishing the alcohol in one loud drink.

“
Brewing?” Jervis laughed,
drawing everyone’s attention. “Why, John, the thought just struck
me. Imagine the money we could raise to save the Willows, if we
charged an entry fee for the competition. After five long years,
everyone should be demanding to participate.”

Excited at the idea, Gwen told them how
Missy said everyone wished they’d hold another
tournament.

“
See,” Jervis said, flashing
a smile at her. “The interest is there. And once they see the
prize, five will get you ten that the contestants will be happy to
pay whatever we ask.”

Daddy raised a brow, his drink
forgotten. Jervis leaned forward, as if to imbue him with his own
enthusiasm. “After all, how many men get a shot at marrying the
beautiful Gwen?”

Gwen’s own excitement when cold. They
meant to offer her without her consent? “No” said loudly, rising
from her chair. “It would be like-“she was reminded of the bazaar
she’d mention to Missy. “It would be like setting me up on the
auction block, and offering me to the highest bidder.”

Jervis looked up at her, his manner
consoling. “Gwen, dear child, it is nothing of the sort. Your daddy
would not allow anything against your best interests. Besides, how
can it be wrong, when your own mother did such the same?” He looked
to his brother for approval.

Fearing he was about to get it, Gwen
tossed her napkin on the table. “Do you think I can tolerate the
entire countryside talking about me, and sneering behind my back? I
will not be the object of scandal. I won’t.”

As a Harden glint came into father’s
gaze, Gwen saw her mistake. She recognized that look, for in her
more honest moments, she knew her own stubborn streak came from
him. “I hope you don’t mean to imply that you’re better than your
mother. That you’re above doing what she did.”

“
John, I am certain Gwen did
not mean-“

“
I am still man of this
house,” that he said with a new and frightening intensity. “If I
decide in favor of the competition, my daughter will adhere to my
wishes, and that will be that.”