Читать книгу Christmas Wishes Part 1 - Линн Грэхем, Elizabeth Rolls - Страница 33

Chapter Four

Ash rode back into Haydon village just as dusk was falling on the afternoon of the twenty-third. It had been snowing lightly for the past five miles, and old Runcorn, the innkeeper, welcomed him heartily, handing him a cup of hot punch.

‘Come you in, my lord. All’s ready. Will you be going up to the castle tonight?’

Ash gave him a narrow look as he sipped the punch gratefully. He had done his best to keep the betrothal quiet, worried that Montfort might trouble Maddy, but clearly the secret was out. ‘Not tonight, Runcorn.’ As it was, his sleep had been disturbed for the past two weeks with anticipatory dreams of the wedding night. Which were better than nightmares, but he’d be damned if he’d take the risk of literally anticipating his vows.

Runcorn ushered him to the stairs. ‘Never you fear, m’lord. There’s only a few knows what’s afoot. And glad we are of it.’ He shook his head. ‘A bad business, thinking we’d lose the castle.’

Ash followed him up the stairs. Most of his belongings had been sent ahead to Haydon in the carriage that would carry Maddy to church on the morrow. All he had with him was a portmanteau, holding enough for the night and his wedding clothes. And the marriage settlements, which he had collected from Blakiston on his way through Newcastle.

His jaw set hard at the thought of those settlements. They would have to be signed tomorrow, before the wedding, even though they were not quite as he had instructed. In fact, not at all. And there was no time to have them changed back, even if Blakiston would have agreed. As to that, he’d had not a single logical argument to advance when the wily old solicitor had pointed out that, as Miss Maddy’s trustee, he was bound both legally and morally to consider her wishes.

That might be the case, but he was going to have something to say to Maddy about this. His fingers tightened on a small object in his pocket.

* * *

The church vestry was a chilly little room, fragrant with camphor and wax. Maddy read the altered settlements through very carefully to ensure they said what she wanted them to say. Satisfied, she picked up the pen and dipped it in the ink.

Signed by me, Madeleine Henrietta Fairfax Kirkby, this twenty-fourth day of December, in the Year of our Lord eighteen hundred and sixteen.

The pen ceased its scratching and Maddy set it back in the pen-rest, careful not to drip ink on the settlement. This was much fairer than the original version. Mr Blakiston had explained the details of that document very clearly when he’d brought the settlements out to her to read through a week ago.

‘You retain ownership of Haydon. Should you predecease Lord Ashton, he has only a life interest in the property, which will then pass to your eldest son, or daughter if there is no son. Should you die without heirs of your body, the trust is set up so that you may bequeath Haydon, in its entirety as you please, the bequest to be effective upon the death of Lord Ashton.’

There had been more. Every eventuality had been thought of. But the crux of the matter was that Ash had given Haydon back to her and her heirs absolutely. Under the terms of the original settlement Ash had asked Mr Blakiston to draw up, Haydon would never really be his.

She was fiercely conscious of Ash standing behind her, waiting to sign. He had barely spoken to her when she arrived, his greeting curt, his eyes as grey and cold as a winter sea. A tremor ran through her. Heirs of your body. She had lived in the country all her life. She knew how those heirs would be conceived. How could she not? But until Ash had kissed her she had not known that a man’s touch could set her pulse awry and steal the breath from her body.

He was not angry with you then.

He was definitely angry now. With her.

He came forward, tall and straight, every movement controlled and easy. Yet his mouth was set in a hard line. Her foot caught in the hem of her gown as she rose, but before she could even stumble his hand was there, under her elbow, steadying her. Through the velvet sleeve of her gown and the leather of his glove every nerve sang at his touch and the strength in those lean fingers, even as they bit into her arm. She said nothing, but at her sharp intake of breath he released her and stepped back.

Heart pounding, she waited while Ash signed the documents, his face coldly expressionless, and his brother the duke and Mr Blakiston witnessed the signatures. There were three copies, now all formally signed and witnessed. One would be kept with Blakiston, one at Haydon and one with the Ravensfell family records to safeguard both parties to the transaction. She had to remember, no matter that Ash could set every nerve in her body alight, that it was just that: a business transaction.

It was done. She hoped.

‘It...it is binding, isn’t it?’ she asked. ‘Legally?’

Mr Blakiston nodded. ‘This is your twenty-first birthday. You are of age and your marriage—’ he pulled out his watch ‘—in half an hour will ratify the contract, bring it into force.’

The vicar, Mr Parmenter, was hovering in the background. ‘Perhaps, Miss Kirkby, you might like to come back to the vicarage for a few moments. A time for solemn reflection and prayer?’

Ash spoke. ‘I should like to speak to Miss Kirkby for a moment.’ His voice was as hard as the gaze that held hers.

She swallowed. What had happened? They had signed the settlements. Surely he wasn’t having doubts now?

She hesitated. ‘Thank you, Mr Parmenter, but I should like to speak to Lord Ashton privately, please.’

The vicar frowned. Clearly leaving the bride and groom alone before the wedding, whatever had to happen afterwards, was not at all usual. Especially not in his vestry. Bad enough that the wedding was so hasty, and there had been this mad scramble to sign the contracts within half an hour of the wedding. He opened his mouth, probably to object.

‘Of course, of course,’ said the duke cheerfully. ‘The duchess and I will accept your offer, Parmenter. Very kind. A cup of tea would be just the thing—wouldn’t it, my lady?’

The duchess rose to the occasion. ‘Indeed it would.’ She shepherded the vicar out with a question about the stone carving around the font. ‘Most interesting. Quite unusual. Is it Saxon?’

The door clicked shut behind the duke and they were alone.

‘Why the changes to the settlements, Maddy?’ His voice was clipped and hard.

Maddy frowned. Was that all that was bothering him? ‘They weren’t fair. Essentially they gave Haydon back to me in its entirety. Now it will belong to us jointly.’

Ash muttered something under his breath. ‘Damn it, Maddy!’ he went on. ‘The settlements were supposed to protect you!’

‘They still do,’ she said. ‘Now they protect you, as well. And if I die without heirs, Haydon is yours.’

Most marriage settlements ensured that any property brought by the bride ended up firmly in her husband’s hands, unless her relatives or trustees insisted otherwise. Under the circumstances, having practically begged Ash to marry her, she had not made any stipulations to the contrary.

‘What the devil were you thinking?’ he demanded. ‘Haydon should be yours, Maddy! And I don’t need protecting!’

‘No, but—’

‘So, why? Why did you do it?’

‘Because I wanted Haydon to be ours,’ she said simply. ‘It’s more mine that way.’

His jaw dropped. ‘Then perhaps my birthday gift is not as foolish as I feared,’ he said, very softly. ‘Here.’

He reached into his pocket and drew out something small. ‘We found it together,’ he said, handing it to her.

It rested in her hand. Small, solid and warm. The little bronze horse that had endured hidden for so long. Maddy’s throat tightened as she saw again the bright summer’s day he’d found it, the sky a wild arc of windswept blue above them, and Ash, his fingers and eyes reverent as he brushed centuries of dirt from the little figure. In a queer way it was not just a gift from Ash but from Haydon itself, to both of them.

A gift from the past to their future.

Her fingers closed over the little horse as tears pricked the backs of her eyes. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered, and stretched up on tiptoe to kiss him.

She was aiming for his jaw, but somehow, with a slight movement of his head, she missed. The kiss landed full on his mouth—his very willing, ready mouth— and she was in his arms. The world rocked, tilted wildly for a single mad moment, as his mouth possessed hers and his arms tightened. Every nerve, every fibre of her body sang, blazed with need. Then, with what sounded remarkably like a curse, he released her and stepped back.

‘We had better,’ he said carefully, ‘join Gerald and Helen with the vicar.’

* * *

Ash barely noticed the church filling up behind him as he waited by the chancel steps for Maddy. She had blindsided him. And not just by the alterations to the marriage settlements. Although that was shocking enough. He’d instructed Blakiston to draw up the settlements so that Maddy was completely protected. Even from himself.

No, that wasn’t what had really shocked him. What had done that was the fact that, despite all the lectures he had read himself over the past two weeks, the moment she had drawn close and he had breathed that sweet lavender and Maddy fragrance he’d been hard and aching. And when she’d touched him, reached up to kiss him, he’d been close, God help him, to making the vicar’s worst fears fact.

He shoved those thoughts aside. He’d given her the little horse, a talisman he’d carried with him for years as a reminder of home. Every time he had looked at it he had been back on the fells with Maddy, the summer sun bright above them in a wide sky. He’d never thought to part with it, but this felt strangely right—she’d given him herself and a home; he’d given her the reminder. Somehow, in giving it away, he’d kept what had always been most important about the little horse.

The stir at the back of the church, murmurs and shuffling, had him turning to look. There, bright in the dim interior of the old church, was Maddy, glowing in amber velvet, on Mr Blakiston’s arm. He had not understood quite how bereft Maddy was of family until he’d realised that Blakiston would be giving her away.

Watching her now, walking towards him, her head high, he vowed to make sure she was never lonely again. That she knew she had a family. His family, and the family he hoped they would make together.

But perhaps she wasn’t quite alone.... The people of Haydon filled the bride’s side of the church—men, women, children and even a couple of infants in their mothers’ arms. Smiles and blessings followed in her wake as she came to him at the chancel steps.

* * *

‘Dearly beloved—’

The vicar began the marriage service, and the familiar words washed over Maddy. So many times she had stood in this church for the wedding of one of her people. Now it was her turn. Soon she would be married. Haydon would be safe.

She glanced sideways at Ash and felt the shattering leap of her heart at the sight of him, tall and strong beside her.

‘...is not by any to be enterprised, nor taken in hand, unadvisedly, lightly or wantonly, to satisfy men’s carnal lusts and appetites, like brute beasts that have no understanding, but reverently, discreetly, advisedly, soberly...’

Heat stole across her cheeks. Reverent and sober were about the last words applicable to the way Ash had kissed her. Hopefully the warning meant that marriage was not to be entered into only to satisfy carnal lusts....

‘Therefore if any man can show any just cause, why they may not lawfully be joined together, let him now speak, or else hereafter for ever hold his peace.’

The vicar paused and glanced around the church. He drew breath and continued, ‘I require and charge you both, as ye will answer at the dreadful day of judgement when the secrets of all hearts shall be disclosed, that if either of you know any impediment—’

The west door crashed open.

‘Stop!’

Shock slammed into her, along with the blast of cold air. Stunned, she turned. Edward was striding down the nave, flanked by two of his men.

The vicar drew himself up. ‘Lord Montfort—’

‘The marriage cannot go ahead,’ announced Edward. ‘I forbid it.’

Maddy’s temper flashed. ‘You cannot forbid it. I am of age, and—’

She found herself set gently aside. Ash had stepped forward, placing himself between her and Edward.

‘This is for me to deal with, Maddy,’ he said quietly. Facing Edward, he said, ‘You’ve no power to forbid it, Montfort. Madeleine is of full age to consent to marriage.’

‘She is promised to me,’ declared Edward.

Furious, Maddy stepped forward, avoiding Ash’s arm when he would have held her back. ‘No, I am not!’

Edward ignored her. ‘She was promised to me and got in a huff when I glanced sideways at some worthless dairymaid. It was nothing, but she became upset, and—’

‘Unfaithful before the wedding, Montfort?’ put in the duke from the front pew. ‘A little unwise, wouldn’t you say?’

The duchess looked disapproving.

Edward gritted his teeth. ‘An indiscretion. One that won’t happen again. The fact remains that Madeleine is promised to me.’

‘Witnesses?’ snapped Ash.

Maddy went cold. Why was he asking for witnesses? Surely—surely—he didn’t believe this nonsense?

Edward smiled as if he scented victory, and gestured to the men with him. ‘These fellows heard my proposal and Madeleine’s acceptance. They’ll swear to it.’

Under Maddy’s hand Ash tensed, the muscles in his arm rigid. ‘Really? You offered marriage in front of two of your...henchmen.’ His lip curled. ‘That must have been a romantic moment. I, on the other hand, have a letter in Miss Kirkby’s hand agreeing to marriage.’

His eyes narrowed, Edward said, ‘My proposal pre-dates your letter!’

Ash snorted. ‘Of course it does. Probably so does Miss Kirkby’s refusal!’

‘She’s promised to me!’ Edward’s roar rang in the vaulted space of the church.

‘The hell she is!’ snarled Ash. His hand covered Maddy’s, clamping over it.

Maddy found her voice. ‘Edward, I never agreed to marry you or gave you any hope that I would marry you.’ Fury spat from her. ‘In fact, I wouldn’t marry you if my life depended on it!’

His eyes hardened. ‘Think carefully, Madeleine, before you defy me.’

Fury ripped through her. ‘I don’t have to think, Edward. I know what you are, and I refused your offer!’

He lowered his voice. ‘You could be carrying my child.’

He hadn’t lowered his voice enough. A shocked silence gripped the church, followed by a surge of gasps and chatter.

Maddy’s stomach roiled. ‘Your—?’

Ash’s fist crashed into Edward’s jaw.

* * *

Montfort staggered back, wheezing as Ash followed his right to the jaw with a left straight to the solar plexus.

The vicar’s wail of ‘Gentlemen!’ barely penetrated the red-hazed battle fury hammering in every vein as he blocked a punch from Montfort and ploughed his own fist back into the bastard’s face.

Montfort went down in a crashing tangle with the lectern and stayed down, blood dripping from his nose.

Ash strode forward, fully intending to haul Montfort up just for the pleasure of knocking him down again. Several times. Somehow Gerald was in the way.

His brother’s calm voice steadied him. ‘I’d say he’s had enough, wouldn’t you?’ And Gerald poked the earl with his shoe. Poked hard enough for the gesture to qualify as a kick. ‘Why don’t we remove him so we can get on with the wedding?’ His hand gripped Ash’s arm and he spoke softly. ‘The wedding, Ash. That’s the important thing now. Think, lad.’

‘Ash?’

Maddy’s voice sliced through him. He turned, and on her face he saw fear.

‘Ash—please...’

He strode to her, caught her hands. ‘Not here, Maddy. Later.’

She stared up at him, her hands trembling in his. Doubts whispered. Could it be true? Oh, not that she had gone to Montfort willingly, but that he had thought to force her hand, disgrace her so that she could not wed?

And she didn’t tell you?

He fought for control. How the hell could a woman tell a man that? Especially a man she didn’t know very well. When it might mean losing her home and failing people dependent on her. And there were things he had not told her—his nightmares.

So what now? His hands tightened on hers. Leaving her at the altar was unthinkable. Nor could he demand an explanation. Not here. Not now. If he showed the least hesitation in marrying Maddy, the story would spread, grow in the telling. She’d be ruined, a social pariah. He couldn’t do that to her. Any explanations would have to come later. Right now, at least until they were utterly alone, he would behave as though there could not be the least doubt that Montfort was a lying bastard.

And if she is carrying his child?

He shoved the thought away. Protecting Maddy trumped any other consideration. He’d worry about that later.

A throat being cleared got his attention. Several of Maddy’s men had come forward, Brady at their head.

‘We’ll handle this lying scum, my lord.’ Brady’s face was grim as he and two others bent down and dragged Montfort to his feet.

Ash’s hands tightened on Maddy’s as he reined in the urge to smash a fist or two into Montfort’s jaw again. ‘Thank you.’ It came out between gritted teeth.

‘Be a right pleasure,’ said Brady. With a total lack of ceremony, Montfort and his companions were bundled from the church.

His decision made, Ash faced the vicar, still with Maddy’s hands clasped in his. ‘Continue, sir.’

Parmenter spluttered. ‘Well, as to that, my lord...er...it might be better to...ah, wait on events...as it were. I really couldn’t in all conscience—’

‘Parmenter.’ Ash spoke with a lethal softness. ‘If you will not continue the service, I will have no choice but to convey Miss Kirkby to Ravensfell and marry her there. I will not allow Montfort’s lies—’ please, God, they were lies ‘—to ruin this day.’

Blakiston spoke up. ‘Mr Parmenter, if Lord Montfort had truly gained Miss Kirkby’s consent to marriage, then I would have been asked to draw up marriage settlements for them. I assure you he lied.’

The vicar let out a breath. ‘That may be, but the other accusation—’ His face reddened. ‘The suggestion of unchastity—’

‘Is a matter between myself and Miss Kirkby,’ said Ash. ‘It is not for any other to judge.’ He flung all decorum to the winds. ‘Even if I did entertain the least doubt of Miss Kirkby’s virtue, do you imagine that I am a virgin?’

There were quite a few muffled laughs in the church, quickly stifled as Parmenter whipped around to glare at the impious.

‘Well...’ The vicar settled his preaching bands. ‘If your lordship’s mind is made up—’

‘It is.’

Parmenter cleared his throat, took up his position and began to read again. ‘I require and charge you both—’