To Love and Protect (45 page)

A light breeze played on the air and Clarissa pulled her shawl close around her shoulders.
 
Justin forbade her to leave the house.
 
Her husband, those words still caught her off guard at times, had gone to check in with the Foreign Office.
 
A skeleton crew ran the house because they were used to bachelor quarters.
 
Rooms needed to be aired out upstairs.
 
The parlors needed to be freshened, and a nursery would need to be created, but Clarissa could do none of that without hurting the feelings of the current staff and alienating herself from them.
 
It would be easier if there were female staff members employed.
 
She would find a way to approach Higgins about hiring on female staff.
 

She stared off into the garden, bored.
 
Reading did not appeal to her today.
 
Going for a walk was out of the question until Justin returned home, and who knew when that would be?
 
Or if he will even take you
, she chided herself.
 
Their townhouse was not located in the elite neighborhoods of London, and Clarissa found herself very happy about that.
 
Many families with small children lived near them.
 
In fact, she heard children shouting and laughing as their nannies took them out to play.

She stood knowing that she could not sit around all day feeling sorry for herself, and attempted to enter the house through the French doors behind her.
 
Locked.
 
She retraced her steps to the servants’ entrance and went upstairs to her bedroom.
 
After searching through her meager wardrobe she found nothing suitable to wear to toil in the garden.
 
Since there were no maids, Clarissa had few choices left—ruin the only nice dress she currently had in her possession, slowly go insane from being locked inside, or loot her husband’s belongings.
 
Choice three held much more appeal for her.
 
She rummaged through Justin’s belongings and found clothing that looked as if it had seen better days.

Her appearance would most definitely shock the staff, but desperate times called for desperate measures.
 
Sanity fell into the desperation category as nothing else did.
 
Clarissa knew she could not stay in the house listening to the clock wind down the hours and minutes of the day a moment longer.
 
She slipped back outside and into the neglected garden.
 
A gardener’s shed sat back near the wall of the yard.
 
Luckily, the door opened easily allowing her to go about her business without seeking assistance.

The handle let out a grating sound as she twisted it open.
 
Clarissa pulled, but nothing happened.
 
She pushed and nothing happened.
 
The door was well and truly stuck.
 
Swollen from the recent dampness, it refused to budge.
 
Clarissa made a mental note to mention to Justin the need for someone to trim the door down a smidgeon.
 
After battling the stubborn monstrosity for longer than any sane person would, it finally gave up the fight.
 

It flew open, catching Clarissa unawares.
 
She stumbled backwards and landed awkwardly on her bottom.
 
Blonde tresses fell across her face and she pushed them back, leaving dirt smears along her cheeks and forehead.
 
Clarissa stood and entered the shadowy shed.
 
She jumped as spiders scattered to the four corners of the building.

“They are more frightened of you,” she whispered to herself, but did not sound at all convincing.
 
She found a table under a wide and narrow window set high up in the wall.
 
On top of the table she found an old pair of gloves.
 
She beat them together to make certain that no creatures had claimed them for their home.
 
They swallowed her hands, but offered the protection she needed to fight the brambles.
 
She also found a pair of oversized shears that would be perfect to cut back the overgrowth.

After gathering the equipment, she walked back outside and gazed around the garden.
 
So much needed pruning that it momentarily overwhelmed her.
 
Her eyes landed on the overgrown arbor.
 
Clarissa took a deep breath before striding purposefully to the enemy.
 
She tugged on the borrowed gloves and lowered herself to her knees.
 
Starting at the bottom, she began to meticulously cut away the overgrowth until it aligned with the wooden form that it had overtaken.

She had several sneezing attacks, but refused to let the dust win.
 
She was so intent on her work, she unknowingly worked through lunch.
 
Clarissa also did not realize that she had a keeper that kept looking out the French doors checking on her.
 
By mid-afternoon she had successfully carved out the inside of the arbor.
 
She found a rake in the old shed and maneuvered the fallen boughs to a deserted corner of the yard in a neat pile.
 
She walked back over and stood admiring her work.

“What a nice little place to put a bench and pass away the afternoon,” a raspy, yet sultry, feminine voice sounded behind her.

Clarissa whirled around and saw a familiar face standing there.
 
Clarissa quickly sank into a deep curtsy.

“Duchess, it is a pleasure to have you at our home,” Clarissa said when she once more stood upright.

“My name is Mikala.
 
Kala to my friends, as you well know.
 
I hope I can still count you among my friends.
 
The number is small you realize.
 
Duchess is just a yoke Hawkescliffe burdened me with upon our marriage.”
 
The other woman saw Clarissa’s eyes widen.
 
“No, the title is a yoke.
 
Not my marriage.
 
At least, not anymore,” she said, a smile hovering on her bow-shaped lips.

“I truly am glad.
 
And remember, you are to call me Clarissa.
 
How did you know I had returned to London, let alone here?”

“Your
husband
,” Kala emphasized the word before continuing, “sent word that you might could use a visit.”

“He did not go by to see you?
 
I thought you still considered him a friend.”

“Me, yes.
 
My husband, however, is another story.
 
He and Justin had a, well, let’s just call it a disagreement a while back.”

“I dare not even ask.”

“No.
 
But it helped my marriage infinitely.
 
I also have a feeling that now Gabe knows that Justin is happily married, they will soon become friends.
 
You are bleeding.”
 
The duchess nodded towards her.

“Scratches from the roses and brambles.”
 
She turned once again to admire her work.
 
“I knew it would be beautiful once it was trimmed a bit.”

“A bit?”
 
Both women laughed.

“Thank you for coming.
 
I was going a bit mad, being under house arrest.”

“This does sound interesting.”

“I don’t know that
interesting
is the right word.
 
Why don’t we go inside?
 
I’ll run up and make myself presentable while tea is prepared,” her stomach growled.
 
“Excuse me,” she mumbled, embarrassed.
 
“I worked right through the noon meal.
 
No wonder I’m starving.
 
Come.
 
It will be so delightful to have someone to talk to that isn’t trying to look out for my own good.”

The women parted ways inside and when Clarissa came back down a footman had delivered tea along with a light repast to the parlor. The French doors were open, letting in a sliver of sun and a cool breeze.
 
Each woman filled a small plate, and Clarissa poured tea into the cups.

“Why are you under house arrest?” Mikala asked cutting to the heart of the issue, never one to skirt uncomfortable subjects.

“I’m not sure I should tell.”

“Something dangerous, is it?”

“Yes,” Clarissa replied, taking a bite of a pastry.

“I see.
 
You know, I’ve just gotten through with a dangerous situation of my own.
 
Perhaps Justin sent me over so you could talk with someone that would understand,” Mikala suggested lightly, giving the other woman the opportunity.

“Did you help bring it to an end?”

“Of course.
 
I couldn’t sit by and let the men have all the fun,” Mikala threw back her head and laughed merrily.
 
“In all truthfulness,” she became quite serious a moment later, “I should have let the men take care of it.
 
If it hadn’t been for two very dear boys and their expert knowledge of the land around their home, I might not be sitting here talking to you today.”

“Justin doesn’t want me to become involved.
 
But I already am.”

“He’s just protecting you.”

“It’s more than that.
 
I’m increasing
,” Clarissa whispered the last two words after looking around furtively.

“Ahhh.
 
It happens to women every day
,” Mikala whispered back.
 
“It isn’t something one should whisper about as if ashamed.”

“I think he might also despise me.”

“Why is that?”

“For the same reason.”

“I don’t understand.”
 
After swearing Mikala to secrecy, Clarissa quickly explained what her father had done.
 
“I thought things like that were only put forth into wills.”

“My father thought I would never marry, so this was his way of making sure I did.
 
If I did not marry and produce a child within a certain time frame, then I would be disinherited.
 
I would become a pauper.
 
I suppose my father believed he was doing the right thing, but it has put a strain on our relationship.”

“Whose?”

“Everyone’s,” Clarissa said, a self-deprecating laugh escaping her.
 
She threw her hands up in the air before letting them fall into her lap once more.
 
“Mine and Papa’s.
 
Mine and Justin’s.
 
Justin and Papa’s.
 
I’m not sure that any of us really trust the other anymore.”

“And then you found out you were with child.”

“Thought I was.
 
You should have heard Justin.”

“If he is anything like Gabe, I can just imagine.
 
Wait, thought you were?”

“Yes.
 
A mysterious illness settled on me while in Scotland.
 
Anyway, I wasn’t.
 
However, I still knew how Justin felt about the situation.
 
How I felt about it.”

“Ah, but now you are.”

“Yes, and I have been so ill the last week of our travels, it took me three days to recover once we arrived.”

“You poor thing.”

“But it gave me lots of time to think.”

“About?”

“I believe the babe should come after my birthday.”

“You are counting on that, aren’t you?”
 

“Yes.”

“Continue to be positive and take care of yourself, and you shouldn’t have anything to worry about,” Mikala replied cheerily.
 
Both women fell into a contemplative silence.
 
The clock in the hall began to chime the hour.
 
“Oh, no.
 
Gabe will be worried if I’m not home.”

“Are you bending to your husband’s will?”

“Appeasing him.
 
The danger has passed,” she continued, “but Gabe is so used to worrying that he cannot seem to stop.”

“I see.”
 
Both women rose and Clarissa walked Mikala to the door.
 
“Thank you for coming.
 
I had almost begun to hold conversations with myself,” she chuckled.

“You were the only woman who befriended me during my short lived season.
 
I hope that we can still consider ourselves friends.”

“Yes.
 
And perhaps one day our stubborn husbands will put aside the past as well.”

“You do not know Gabe as well as I thought you did.
 
We will have to work on them a bit for that to come to fruition; although, I do believe it will.
 
Gabe just needs some,” she hesitated as she searched for the right word, “time.”

“Hawkescliffe frightened me at times.”

“Oh, that is rich,” Mikala laughed huskily.
 
“You know what else is funny?”

“What is that?” Clarissa asked, her head cocked at an odd angle.
 
The door stood open to the outside and several carriages passed up and down the road outside the townhouse.

“We were each courted by the other’s husbands, and yet, here we are attempting a friendship.”

“That is because we knew that there were no feelings involved with said previous relationships except perhaps friendship,” she quickly amended.

“Yes,” Mikala agreed and impulsively hugged Clarissa.
 
“I should be going.
 
I promise to come back in a couple of days for another visit.”

“I look forward to it.”

Clarissa stood on the stoop and waved until the Duke of Hawkescliffe’s carriage disappeared around a corner.
 
Another carriage passed outside the house and appeared to almost come to a crawl as it rolled past.
 
Clarissa looked back over her shoulder feeling as if she were being watched.
 
The carriage seemed to speed up and leave the square.
 
She shook her head and chastised herself for imagining things that were not happening.