Читать книгу Haloran Hall - Myrna G. Raines - Страница 2

Lady Shalan Kiley lifted the hem of her dress and with trepidation born of futility tiptoed into the great hall. Bearing on her mind for days, she had finally found the courage to face her father with her proposal, but there was little hope that he would pay heed to her request. There was a small chance that her papa would allow this one good turn that she so desperately desired, but not much of one. She asked her father for very little, but this matter was especially important to her.

Shalan stepped quietly into the library so as not to disturb her father if he were terribly busy. Staring at her papa reading one of a few missives he had evidently just received, she politely coughed to let him know she had entered the room. Looking up with his customary smile when he laid eyes upon his daughter, the missive he had been perusing was put aside.

“Papa, please forgive me. I hate to interrupt, but it is of the utmost importance that I speak with you.” Shalan’s nerves were shattered as she stood before him, wringing her hands in a way that was her wont when she was disturbed about something.

He pointed to a chair then turned all of his attention to his only child, noting her worried countenance. “Sit, my dear. What in the world has you on such tenterhooks, Shalan? You have the look of one who has suddenly encountered a wolf in the wild and does not know which way to run.”

Shalan came straight to the point. There was no sense in only alluding to the problem, nor skirting the issue. She feared that little ploy would only postpone the inevitable, and time was running short.

Hardly able to force them from her mouth, she took a deep breath and rapidly fired the words at her father. “May I please be excused from the trip to Haloran Hall, Papa? I really don’t want to go as the earl’s reputation has preceded him, and he is not the type of man a young girl would ever want to meet. Why will you not go alone? You have no need of my company to pay your respects to the new Earl of Haloran.”

Her papa’s brows furrowed and his hands clenched together as he knew exactly why Shalan had sought him out. She was of the opinion that if she pleaded with him, she would be relieved of the obligation. He had, more than once, allowed his daughter to have her way, especially in situations such as this one. But not this time. It was not to be borne as the earl himself had made the request that the Marquis' daughter be present when they met.

Staring down at his clenched fists, and then raising his arresting blue eyes to her, he announced, “You will accompany me, my dove. The invitation includes you specifically, and to deliberately snub the new earl without a very legitimate reason would be rude and most unforgivable. I do not relish this visit myself, as I suspect what this meeting is about, as I am sure you do also. It is the very reason you hesitate to be present. But we must welcome the new Lord Haloran to his home from London. It is only fitting and proper, since we were specially invited.”

He started fidgeting with the missives on his desk, as his daughter fidgeted with her hands in the cloth of her dress, both of them uncomfortable. He, for knowing that he had to insist that Shalan go, and Shalan for knowing she could find no way to escape the invitation from the earl.

Her father looked to her with pity, but understanding, attempting to explain to her why she must attend. “God knows it has been a battle for the courts to sort out just who was to inherit Haloran Hall, as the late earl had no issue, and his nephews are all so close in age. As you well know, several were in contention for the title since the deceased earl unfortunately and untimely met his demise. Why Lord Chester Haloran did not settle all this confusion beforehand, I do not know. I understand there were days of testimony, and many affidavits to pore over simply to ascertain which of the five was the first born, as they are mostly of an age. It was finally determined that Lord Jaran was the eldest of the heirs. By only a month or so, by the by, but the courts have decreed that he is indeed the new earl.

“And of course, as you are aware of his wishes, the earl feels he must take a wife although the late Earl of Haloran never married. I know not his reasoning unless he desires the Haloran line to continue through him.”

Oh, how I wish the new earl was already married, Shalan admitted, but only to herself. Readily understanding that with the inheritance of the great manse and its vast fortune, it behooved the man to take a wife, the understanding did not help Shalan’s disquiet. Why did she have to be in the competition? ‘Because you are, unfortunately, one of the few maids left in this area’ was her answer to herself. Why didn’t the bumble head find a suitable mate in London? There were undoubtedly scores of women that would relish becoming a countess, but mayhap the earl was old or repulsive, and no amount of riches could compensate for revulsion.

She was certainly not going to get out of this, so Shalan gave in and stayed her opinions with her usually understanding father. No matter what arguments she used, he would do with her as he willed, and she would be taken and made known to the man, inspected, as if she were a leg of lamb or perhaps poultry hanging in the market place. As the new Earl of Haloran, and since he was unmarried, he would make acquaintance with all the eligible young ladies in the region and decide which he considered an appropriate candidate for a wife.

Shalan’s papa had told her many years before that he would not wed her to someone not of her choosing, but since so much had changed, most importantly the death of her mother, she now had her doubts if he would keep that promise. Oh, why did her mother have to leave her? Her mother could influence her father, but alas, Shalan could only plead.

He had promised her! But did the avowal still stand? He had alluded to the fact, but did not renew the promise. There had to be a reason why her father was so adamant that she accompany him to Haloran Hall. And she began to speculate on his reasoning.

Shalan had noticed lately that her father had cut back on his trips into London, and it had been forever since she’d had any new frocks. Her papa used to tell her quite often to call in the dressmaker, but he hadn’t for an age, it seemed. Was he perhaps in a bad way financially? Was that the reason he insisted she accompany him? With the hope the earl might choose her as a wife and her papa would be recompensed?

“When are we to leave for this sham masquerading as a welcoming visit?” she asked with a sigh, dejection apparent in her voice. Her head was down, her chin nearly resting on her chest. With her arms crossed, one hand was running up and down the sleeve of her sprig green morning dress.

“We depart early on the morn. I have given the servants orders to make ready for our journey. Cheer up, my lamb. Papa will not lead you to the slaughter. A young lady has the prerogative of turning down a suitor, you know, albeit the Earl of Haloran. I fear you would never live it down if that were the case, though.” And she recognized that he was warning her that if the earl did indeed choose to pursue her, she would be ill advised to repudiate his offer.

Her father left his chair and came to her. Placing his arm around her, his index finger crooked underneath her chin, he tilted her face up to look at him. “Don’t be so glum, dear one. With the countenance you are wearing, you look as if you were being led to the holding pens along with all the other sheep that are being prepared for slaughter.”

Turning away from him, she stated in an undertone, “That’s exactly how I feel.” Then thanked the good Lord that her papa was hard of hearing.

Shalan dolefully made her way out of the great hall, barely dragging herself up the winding stone stairs and down the long corridor into her own chambers. Not one to normally allow herself to drown in self-pity, she attempted to cheer herself, trying her utmost to look on the bright side. This might not be such a catastrophic happenstance after all. Perhaps this particular gentleman would find her unappealing. Others had. And she had celebrated each time they had chosen another as it seemed that most of them were much older than she, with bad breath, or had lost a wife and were searching for a younger one. Truth be known, Shalan was not acquainted with any gentlemen below the age of forty who were looking to be wed. And she detested the reprehensible custom of being put on display for every bachelor within the boundaries of Northumberland, and some even further afield.

“Step right up, my lords, and inspect the merchandise… if you see something of interest…”

Standing in front of the cheval glass, she studied her reflection, searching for the flaws the Earl of Haloran would most certainly notice. Hair of long black ringlets adorned her head, which was free of any restraint at that particular time. Down her eyes traveled to the light blue of her eyes fringed in black lashes that were dreadfully long. She had always thought the light blue of her eyes was the only feature she had inherited from her father. Other than the color of her eyes, she was the image of her mother.

Her eyebrows arched provocatively, and the ordinary nose, not pert nor long nor short, was unremarkable. Her lips were full, but not overly so, well defined, and she had been envied more than once by her friends who had told her they only wished they possessed her well shaped lips. Theirs was much too thin, they’d point out. To Shalan, she thought them frivolous. What difference did it make how one’s mouth was shaped? The mouth was for taking sustenance, and conversing, was it not? The kisses she had seen exchanged were only a meeting of the lips to show affection. What difference could the shape of those lips possibly make?

Much to her delight, her complexion was darker than the milk white fashion of the day due to the fact that her grandmother had come to England from Spain, and that fault had saved her many times. No, she did not possess the fair, translucent complexion of the young ladies of her acquaintance, and surely this Lord Haloran would not see a facet in her that would appeal to him. Her darker complexion, considered a fault, had forestalled many a suitor and she giggled as she realized that fact suited her very well.

Why did women have to go through this unseemly degradation? This parading in front of men, jockeying for position in a man’s favor, especially those who were wealthy and titled? To Shalan, it was ignorant, to pit herself up against others, waiting to see if she was to be the one chosen for a man’s mate. She detested the ritual, although she was aware that many young ladies took an immense delight in the flirtations, and decided that she would not be one of those shallow women whose main goal in life was to marry. She absolutely would not take part in it. If she had to be a mouse, she’d be a mouse. Shalan would much rather spend her life alone than married to some awful man she could not possibly love, and honestly could never love her. And to Shalan, love was paramount to outward appearance, abilities, and even personalities. She had witnessed the love between her mother and father, and had long since decided she would have no less. If she could not, she’d live her life as a spinster. Not as yet having met a man who piqued her interest in the slightest, the life of a spinster greatly appealed to her. To live perpetually at Kiley’s Keep, pursuing her knowledge, was perfectly fine with her. She had no need to marry.

A knock at her door had her scurrying to open it. A downstairs maid, Mazie, stood waiting and then curtseyed, handing her a folded note. She thanked the girl, and wondered where her own Addie was, and why she was not preparing her attire for the trip she was to undertake on the morrow.

Opening the single sheet of paper, she walked closer to the window, as it was a cloudy day, and very little light shone into the room. A quick perusal had her smiling and nearly jumping for joy. Oh, thank the good Lord! The note was from her father and the despicable trip had been postponed. It seemed Lord Haloran had been called away quite suddenly, but when he returned there was to be a social gathering at Haloran Hall, and he would meet all of his neighbors at that time. Meaning, of course, those with marriageable age daughters, Shalan figured.

No better news could have been forthcoming, and being the young girl that she was, she twirled around inside the room. She would not be on display, but would be among several other girls of marriageable age when she met the Earl of Haloran. And she would not stand out, but become anonymous in the midst of them. Compared to the others, she would be found wanting. Lady Kelsie was very beautiful, well sought after, as was Lady Anne, among others. They would most certainly command the lord’s attention and she could be herself and not have to worry about pleasing her papa or any old earl. Oh! This was indeed wonderful news and on a whim, she kissed the note with a loud “mmuah” and tossed it onto her bed.

Shalan elatedly decided to celebrate by taking her mare, Foxy, out for a run. No rush, no hurry to ready herself for an intolerable trip. Changing into her azure blue riding habit with the perky feather in the cap, she was soon ready to ride. Making her way to the stables, she spoke to each of the servants in turn as she came upon them, smiling, happy that the intolerable circumstances had changed. She found Addie in the kitchen with Ardith, who had enlisted her aid in peeling potatoes, as she was the only one without a chore to perform at the moment.

“I heard, I did, that the trip has been put off, my lady. I pray you did not have need of me, as Ardith asked me to help with the supper.” The woman had the temerity to look her charge straight in the eye. Addie had been Shalan’s nurse and then her maid since she came into the world and they had a rapport that had some in the household raising their eyebrows. Addie should not take such liberties with her charge as was her wont to do, was their outlook on the matter.

“I’m taking Foxy out for a while, Addie. Please advise my papa if you run across him, or if he asks my whereabouts.” With a broad grin, she twirled around in front of her maid. “And as you can see, Addie, I managed to change into my habit without your aid. You’d better watch your position in the household as I have no need of you.” She laughed and going to her maid, placed a kiss on the top of the dark hair that had just begun to be streaked with grey. Whereupon Addie grabbed a wooden ladle off the butcher’s block and swatted her lady’s backside. Ardith’s hand went to her heart, as if she’d never seen the like.

Shalan left the kitchen, still laughing, as the heavy riding skirt prevented the ladle from doing any real harm. And nothing could dampen her spirits. She didn’t have to make the trip to Haloran Hall, stand to be inspected by someone who was more than likely as old as her father, and she was quite pleased with that.

“Rolfe, will you please saddle Foxy for me? I am off for the moor as she and I both need the exercise. This atrocious weather we’ve been having has prevented me from riding, but, today, I think we can manage without being caught in a downpour. I think it simply a dreary day, and not threatening.”

“Yes, my lady,” Rolfe grinned, showing his youth. “Which saddle?”

“For goodness sake, Rolfe, do not even speak to me of the sidesaddle! You know I detest that contraption and only use it at the behest of my father. I can ride astride as well as anyone here, and I prefer to do so.” She was still smiling as she drew on her kid gloves, knowing that if her mother were alive, there was no way she would have been allowed anything except the ridiculous sidesaddle.

“Yes, my lady. I’ll make Foxy ready for you right away.” And he went inside the stables, still grinning, with thoughts of how lovely his lady looked when she rode astride.

While waiting, Shalan contemplated the past two years and how different the keep had become without her dear lady mother. It seemed she had held everything together, and while Shalan had no trouble with the inhabitants of the keep, and could oversee the household as well as her mother, she realized that her father had, for the most part, left her to her own devices, often being away from home for weeks at a time. And as Rolfe brought Foxy to her and helped her mount, she realized she was glad of the fact that her father allowed her to make her own choices, within reason. She simply was a person who enjoyed her own company.

Rolfe turned away, but not before she glimpsed the flash of appreciation in his eyes. Fourteen. My God, only fourteen and already he valued the shape of a woman. When did they start? When they found there was a difference between boys and girls? Or was it something apparently born and bred in all males?