Читать книгу A Warriner To Rescue Her - Virginia Heath - Страница 12
ОглавлениеCassie spent the next morning accompanying her father as he visited some of his new parishioners. Those too old, too ill or too lazy to come to church were always graced with a fortnightly visit. Her father was nothing if not tenacious in his mission to bring the word of God into people’s lives, whether they wanted to hear it or not—but at least she was outside. Spending any prolonged periods of time with her father at home was always fractious. She had heard every lecture and every dire final warning for a person to save his soul before Judgement Day and, because she definitely wasn’t the world’s greatest vicar’s daughter, she had long ago stopped listening. Instead, she entertained herself by weaving stories in her head. Not the lofty novels of great writers, Cassie’s wayward brain did not work in that way, but wild fairy tales. Feats of derring-do, mythical lands, pirates, princesses, dragons and, lately, talking animals.
If her papa had asked her opinion, which of course he never did, she might have told him his over-zealous, accusatory stance did more to dissuade the reluctant to come to church than encourage them. He was too much fire and brimstone and not enough love or goodwill for his fellow man. The Reverend Reeves was so blinded by his own confrontational fervour he never saw how he raised the hackles of others. Time after time, he had gone too far, upset too many well-respected and reasonable people, resulting in them having to up sticks and move to yet another parish. Usually another parish so far away from his previous one, nobody had heard of him.
Hence they were here in Retford. A tiny rural congregation which was so very different from the city parishes her father preferred, because, as he was prone to point out at least once a day, where there is deprivation and temptation, sin festered. In the fortnight since they had arrived, Cassie already loved the bustling, little market town. Her father, on the other hand, was not so enamoured, but determined to hunt for enough sinners to justify his presence. The wide-eyed farmer and his cheerful wife were probably not the sort of people he was seeking. But it made no difference. Her father was in full flow. As he had only just mentioned Sodom and Gomorrah, it was fairly safe to assume they would be here for at least another half an hour.
Cassie dived into herself. A technique she had mastered around the age of ten and one which effectively blocked out all of the outside world so she could focus on her latest story and allow her characters to speak to her. She had started it last night, whilst listening to Papa rehearse Sunday’s sermon, and it was tentatively titled Orange Blossom and the Great Apple Debacle. Except, just as it had last night, the flow of the narrative kept being interrupted by thoughts of Captain Galahad, those aquamarine eyes and splendid shoulders.
Apparently, her affection-starved brain was determined to create a completely different sort of story involving him, his mouthwatering strong arms and a willing damsel in distress eager to fall into them so they could ride off into the sunset together. In her mind, the damsel was so thrilled to be going she did not even bother looking back at her hateful father as she headed triumphantly towards her new life. There was no point in pretending the damsel bore a passing resemblance to Miss Cassandra Reeves because she was Miss Cassandra Reeves. A bolder, braver version of herself, who batted her eyelashes coquettishly when the dashing Captain complimented her on her legs.
Really, Captain Galahad? Do you think so? Eyelash flutter. Well, while we are swapping compliments, I think you have a fine pair of shoulders. Perhaps the finest I have ever seen. I do like a man with broad, strong shoulders...
The word Warriner floated into her ears. The farmer’s wife was quite animated with indignation.
‘That family are the epitome of sin, Reverend. Debauchers, cheats and vile sinners every one of them. There’s four of them Warriner boys and all four of them would sooner fleece you than be neighbourly. It’s a scandal, I tell you!’
‘Those Warriners sound exactly like the sort of people who could do with hearing the benefit of God’s word. Perhaps I should visit them tomorrow?’
* * *
The zealot gleam was lit in her father’s eyes all the way home. Cassie said nothing as she frantically sought a believable excuse as to why he probably shouldn’t, then panicked when nothing suitable came to mind that would not result in him punishing her for speaking out of turn. As soon as they entered the vicarage Cassie busied herself with her normal daily chores, hoping he would forget, while her father disappeared in the direction of the church, appearing as preoccupied as he always was. With any luck, he would forget to visit the Warriners, as he so often forgot things that were not top of his list of immediate priorities. Fortunately, his priorities did tend to change like the weather and he had a memory like a flour sifter. Most of the time he forgot he even had a daughter, a very pleasing state of affairs as far as she was concerned as it gave her more freedom than most young ladies of her age. Cassie hauled the heavy kettle on to the stove to boil and got ready to prepare his luncheon.
Despite being well able to afford it, the Reverend Reeves never bothered with servants. Servants suggested he thought himself better than others, which hinted at vanity and vanity was one of the seven deadly sins. Something which was all well and good, but left the entire running of the house up to Cassie. Ungratefully, she supposed, she had come to believe her father kept her as a skivvy to ensure there was never any possibility of her meeting a nice young man and marrying him. She dreaded to think what sort of a rage he would fly into if he suspected she was desperate to leave. It did not help that his sour disposition and hot temper did not lend itself to finding willing employees. Far better to inconvenience his daughter, who slaved for free, and could barely scrape together a few coins for any luxuries whatsoever in the pathetic housekeeping allowance he counted out weekly like the miser he was.
* * *
Nevertheless, Cassie enjoyed two blissful hours of her own company, completely devoid of any fiery sermons or pertinent reminders about the need to continually spread the word of God to the seething cesspool of Earth-dwelling sinners. Or any veiled threats about the need for solitary penance to reflect on her wayward tendencies.
‘Wool-gathering again, girl?’
His sudden reappearance at the open back door startled her. Without thinking, she touched the pocket of her apron to reassure herself that the key to the door was still there as he resolutely shut it behind him. Something which always created a cold trickle of fear to shimmy down her spine each time he did it. ‘Not at all, merely thinking about what I need to do next.’ Cassie put down the bread and dutifully pulled out a chair for him at the table. He sat heavily on a chair and began to load his plate with the food Cassie had placed on the kitchen table.
‘I have had a most informative conversation with another parishioner.’
‘Really?’ Already she could feel herself glaze over, but tried to remain focussed, like a dutiful daughter who was not daydreaming about running away would have.
‘I made some enquiries into that family we were warned about—the Warriners.’
Cassie felt the icy grip of fear stiffen her muscles, dreading what was coming.
‘Yes. Indeed. A thoroughly bad lot. The eldest recently married an heiress, but in Nottingham there is talk he abducted the poor girl and compromised her into marriage.’
Letty certainly did not appear to be the unhappy victim of a kidnapper. Cassie had not met the woman’s husband, but she had seen the great affection in his wife’s eyes as she had talked about him and unconsciously rubbed the unborn child nestled in her womb like it was the greatest gift she had ever received. ‘People do like to embellish gossip, Papa. Perhaps the Warriner family are merely the victims of such nonsense.’
‘I fear not, Cassandra. There is too much evidence levied against them for there not to be strong foundations forged on truth. I have heard grave tales, far too terrible to sully your delicate ears, involving avarice, greed, debauchery. Suffice to say I am convinced they are in dire need of the Lord’s guidance.’
Oh, dear. ‘If they are as bad as you fear, Papa, then perhaps they are best avoided.’
‘Nonsense. I have never shied away from the challenge, Cassandra.’
‘Of course you haven’t, Papa. In a few weeks perhaps you should call upon them, when you are more familiar with your worthier parishioners.’
Her father’s response was as loud as it was instantaneous. ‘These Warriners are in desperate need of my guidance, Daughter. I will go this very afternoon!’
There would be no stopping him, but there was still a chance Cassie could avoid accompanying him. At least then she would not have to witness the tender new shoots of her friendship with Letty and her only link to the Captain ruthlessly trampled on. Good gracious! A far greater issue suddenly presented itself. As soon as he visited them he would learn she had already done so and blatantly neglected to mention it.
‘You came home a little earlier than I expected, Papa, and have rather spoiled my little planned surprise.’ Cassie tried desperately to sound nonchalant. Her father hated liars almost as much as he hated thieves, murderers and fornicators, especially when the liar happened to be his own daughter.
He lifted his head and stared at her quizzically. ‘I did?’
‘Yes! I was about to make your favourite spiced fruitcake. Why don’t we postpone our visit to that family until tomorrow?’ By which time Cassie might well have thought of something to prevent her father from ever darkening their door.
‘You would put cake above the saving of souls?’
‘But, Papa—I was so looking forward to making it for you today.’ Pleading to his better nature had not worked once in all of her twenty-one years, but still Cassie persisted. Her father smiled his benevolent I-know-better-than-you smile and took her hand, a gesture so uncharacteristic it took Cassie completely by surprise. ‘I know what this is about.’
‘You do?’ Surely he had not been apprised of her unaccompanied visit to the family or, heaven forbid, her sinful behaviour in the apple orchard?
‘Yes, and it does you credit. You are a God-fearing girl, Cassandra, and being exposed to the godless frightens you. But fear not. You shall be with me and that heathen family will see what a good example you are of my teachings.’
‘But I would rather not do it today. Just this once, Papa, could we...?’
‘No! You are a dutiful daughter Cassandra. Being dutiful means doing those things one might find unpalatable without complaining.’
‘But...’
‘Your mother was headstrong and weak-willed, Cassandra. Do I now see that unfortunate trait rearing its ugly head in you?’ He was peering at her closely, looking, no doubt, for evidence to support his suspicion. Again her fingers grazed the heavy key in her pocket. For the moment it was still hers although that could change in a heartbeat. ‘You must fight the temptation, girl!’ Cassie schooled her features and tried her best to seem compliant, because being compared to her mother always kindled his anger and then her bedchamber door would be locked again.
‘No, Father, I merely wanted to make you a cake...’ Tears were prickling her eyes as she forced herself to try one last time to escape the ordeal of watching him castigate an innocent family whilst selfishly still avoiding the ordeal of being imprisoned.
‘You will do as you are told, Cassandra.’ He stared pointedly at the stairs until she capitulated with a terrified nod. ‘We will leave within the hour.’
* * *
Jamie had spent most of the day riding Satan around the grounds. There was nothing out of the ordinary in that. He rode every single day, for goodness sake, because he enjoyed being out in the sunshine so it was hardly tangible proof he was being pathetic. Nobody apart from him knew he had lingered for the better part of an hour at the edge of the riverbank or that he had rode up and down every row of trees in the orchard until Satan’s hooves threatened to carve out a deep trench in the ground. And certainly nobody had any idea he did so in the faint hope he would ‘accidentally’ bump into the delectable Miss Reeves again.
As if she would have been tempted to visit again after his clumsy, and doubtless unwelcome, attempt at flirting with her. Pretty girls who wore saucy garters and had the sort of figure which would make any man sit up and beg like a dog were not likely to be particularly enamoured of a crippled former soldier who was afraid of the dark. He sincerely doubted she had given him so much as a passing thought since she had ridden away from him. Unfortunately, Jamie could not say the same.
He had done a great deal of thinking about her. Aside from her acute physical attractiveness, and the garters that tormented him, there was something quirky, unusual and refreshingly unique about the vicar’s daughter which appealed to him. Maybe because he was prone to being serious and she did, as she said herself, border on the ridiculous—but it was her ridiculousness which was so utterly charming. Jamie had never met anyone who imagined animals talked before, or who climbed trees and got stuck in them or who thought carrots were a gift. Or maybe all of this mooning had come about because Miss Reeves had been the first woman he had touched since his injury...
With a sigh, he limped out of the stable and headed into the house. It was a sorry state of affairs when you misguidedly counted an unfortunate accident as an amorous encounter. He found his brother Jack and Letty in the vaulted Tudor great hall they called the drawing room. His sister-in-law was sewing something which he assumed would clothe the baby one day and, like the besotted dolt he had become, his elder brother was watching her contentedly.
‘Don’t you have anything better to do than stare at your wife?’
‘Not at the moment, no. I find I never tire of it. Don’t you have anything better to do than gripe about it?’
Jamie shrugged, reluctant to admit that, no, he never had anything to do any more. His life was aimless because he was now pointless. His easel and paints lay within arm’s reach, calling to him, but he resisted picking them up. It would only give Letty another excuse to ask him how his orchard picture was coming along. Instead, he picked up a newspaper and made a great show of reading it.
‘Ahem.’ The butler appeared on stealthy feet. ‘You have visitors my lord. The Reverend Reeves and his daughter would like an audience.’
It was all Jamie could do not to sit bolt upright and neaten his unruly, windswept hair. She was here. Again. Very probably only to see Letty—but that was all right. At least she was here.
And he was pathetic.
‘Miss Reeves passed me this note while her father was not looking, my lady, I got the impression she wanted you to read it before I showed them in.’
Chivers handed Letty a letter, which was unsealed and appeared to have been hastily folded. She opened it, scanned it quickly, then scowled. ‘Well, I am not altogether sure what to make of this.’
Deliberately, Jamie slowly folded the newspaper in case he seemed too eager to hear what Miss Reeves had to say and schooled his features to appear bored, rather than slightly panicked and yet nauseatingly eager to gaze upon her again.
Letty read the missive out in hushed tones.
Dearest Letty and Captain Warriner,
Please accept my sincerest apologies for the clandestine manner of this note, however, my father would be very angry if he learned that I had visited you unchaperoned or that I had been climbing the trees in your grounds.
I would be eternally in your debt if you pretended this was our first meeting. I know I am asking you to lie for me and appreciate that you are under no obligation to do so and that my request is odd, to say the very least.
I should like to say sorry in advance for what is about to happen. None of this is of my doing.
Cassie
‘I suppose we have to honour her request?’ Letty folded the note slowly and looked towards first Jack, then Jamie for guidance. They both shrugged in response. It was a peculiar letter to be sure. ‘Show them in, Chivers.’
Like the others, Jamie stood. Miss Reeves had already seen him limp so there was no point trying to hide it, and if she had brought her father in tow then the man would expect to see proper manners. Meeting her father suddenly made him feel nervous, as if he were a potential suitor keen to make a good first impression. Where had that ridiculous thought come from? He was not suitor material. He was not anything material any more. Not until he was fixed. If he ever got fixed.
Stop getting ideas above yourself and just be pleased she has graced you with her company again. You have to take whatever crumbs are thrown at you, old boy.
For some reason, he expected to see a jolly, rotund man with his daughter’s friendly open expression. The sour-faced, reedy fellow who walked in, ramrod-straight and unsmiling, was nothing like her. Worse still, the effervescent Miss Reeves was apparently unavailable for this visit. The pained, slouched woman who dutifully walked behind her father was a shell of the vixen he had been thinking about incessantly. Behind her father’s back, she screwed up her face and stared at him mournfully, almost apologetically, then did the same to Letty. Judging by the stern expression on her father’s pinched face, he was not pleased to be here.
Odd.
Being the ranking man of the house, his brother stepped forward with his hand outstretched in welcome. The Reverend curled his lip in what appeared to be disgust and limply returned the handshake as if Jack’s hand was somehow offensive. As a greeting, it was definitely not particularly friendly and Jamie felt his hackles rise at the insult.
‘We are honoured to meet you, Reverend Reeves. Miss Reeves.’
Jamie’s eyes never left her as his brother spoke and her expression became more wretched by the second, yet she refused to meet his gaze and stared dejectedly at the handkerchief she was worrying in her fingers.
‘Allow me to introduce my daughter Cassandra.’ She stepped forward, looking completely dejected. ‘Stand straight, girl! Stop slouching.’
The vicar’s voice was clipped and cold and his daughter withered beneath his steely glare. Instantly, for that alone, Jamie decided he hated the man. The sort of man who would openly chastise his daughter in front of apparent strangers was not the sort he was inclined to think charitably towards. The Reverend Reeves was a bully, like his own father had been, and like all bullies needed standing up to. He bit back the urge to give the man a set down on her behalf, fearing it would only make this increasingly awkward situation much worse and might enlighten the imperious vicar of their prior acquaintance. Definitely not what she needed.
To her credit, Letty never faltered. His sister-in-law stepped forward and smiled benevolently. ‘My dear Miss Reeves, I am so glad you have come to visit us here at Markham Manor. You and your father are most welcome. May I introduce you both to my husband, the Earl of Markham, and his brother, Captain James Warriner?’
Jamie stepped forward and received his own version of the vicar’s limp handshake and bowed politely to the woman who had dominated his thoughts for the last few days.
‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Reeves.’ She smiled somewhat nervously and blushed bright pink as soon as her eyes guiltily flicked to his.
‘How do you do, Captain Warriner. Your lordship.’ Then she stepped back behind her father and stared back at her crumpled handkerchief as if her life depended on it.
It was all very peculiar, yet for reasons unexplained they were pretending to be complete strangers. It was obvious she was frightened of her father. Jamie knew how that felt. His own sire had been a nasty piece of work by and large, and one not averse to using his fists when the mood struck him, usually after dark when it was least expected. He had wielded the element of surprise perfectly. And the old Earl had not been particular about his choice of victim. His sons, his wife, servants, complete strangers. Was the reverend also a man like that? The prospect was as unsettling as it was galling. Surely a man of God would abhor the use of violence? But then again, already this man had openly criticised his daughter in front of strangers, so perhaps he was capable of worse and Miss Reeves appeared cowed in the man’s presence. It all looked far too familiar for Jamie’s liking.
Letty ordered refreshments and invited the vicar and his lying daughter to sit, and did the very best impression of a woman making polite small talk he had ever seen. Throughout the arduous pouring and serving of the tea, the reverend wore a mask of haughty superiority and barely said a word. His daughter said nothing, seemly content to watch her fingers tightly twist her handkerchief into a tangled ball, her lovely brown eyes limpid.
Jamie had just brought his cup to his lips when the good reverend cleared his throat and began to speak in an overly loud voice to no one in particular.
‘“The Lord knoweth how to deliver the Godly out of temptations, and to reserve the unjust unto the day of Judgement to be punished.”’ The vicar paused for effect and stared directly at his elder brother. ‘A stark warning from the gospels which is pertinent for this family, I believe.’
He watched Jack’s dark eyebrows come together in confusion while he tried to come up with a suitable response to what was undoubtedly meant as the most grievous of insults. As usual, his brother resorted to diplomacy, although those who knew him well heard the steel embedded in his words.
‘Perhaps the Warriner family of old, sir, but I trust you are not suggesting those of us who stand before you today are the unjust?’
Jamie felt his own eyes narrow and would have intervened if he had not seen Miss Reeves stare at him, her sorrowful expression completely wretched. He held his tongue reluctantly.
The vicar was unrepentant and glared back at his brother as bold as brass. ‘The whole of Nottinghamshire is rife with stories about the Warriner family. Cheats, liars, debauchers—fornicators! But fear not!’ One bony finger pointed heavenward. ‘It is not too late to save your miserable souls.’
Had the man come here to preach at them? How dare he? Jamie had had quite enough. ‘If your intent was to come here and grossly insult my brother and his wife, Reverend, you have succeeded...’
His brother stayed him with a placating hand and a warning glance. ‘Reverend Reeves, it is true the Warriners of old were a thoroughly bad lot—and I include my own father in that generalisation—however, I can assure you that his sons have chosen to tread a very different path.’
The bony finger pointed directly at Jack in accusation and wiggled menacingly an inch away from his brother’s chest. ‘“Enter not into the path of the wicked, and go not in the way of evil men.”’ Almost as an afterthought he added, ‘Proverbs,’ in case they had the urge to look it up in the Bible to check the validity of his unwarranted sermon.
Miss Reeves, Jamie noticed, had now completely covered her face with her hands and was bent over in the chair, almost as if she were trying to become part of the upholstery. It was obvious she wanted no part in her father’s zealous tirade, but felt powerless to stop it. Jack tried to reason with the vicar again. Clearly he had far more patience than Jamie gave him credit for as he’d have sent the man packing smartly. His fingers itched to grab the man by the lapels, toss him on the newly gravelled drive and to hear the satisfying thud as he slammed the door on him. But he and his elder brother were vastly different in character, therefore, Jack still persisted. ‘As I have just said, Reverend, my brothers and I have chosen a different path to our ancestors and I can assure you none of us are cheats, liars, debauchers or—’
‘“Behold, the day of the Lord cometh, cruel both with wrath and fierce anger, to lay the land desolate. And he shall destroy the sinners thereof out of it.”’ The vicar’s eyes were wide and he was practically quaking with righteous indignation. ‘Isaiah!’ His finger jabbed Jack’s ribs for emphasis and Jamie saw his brother’s expression harden although he still did not pull the obnoxious preacher up. ‘Repent, Mr Warriner! Before it is too late and your souls are banished to the fiery torment of hell!’
‘Oh, this is beyond the pale!’ Jamie briskly limped towards the vicar, snatched the teacup out of his hand and clattered it noisily on the table. ‘My brother is an earl, Reverend Reeves, not a mister, therefore when you next address him it had damn well better have the words my lord at the end of it, else you will have me to answer to. And, whilst we are quoting the Bible, he who is without sin, let him cast the first stone!’ He grabbed the vicar by the elbow and unceremoniously hauled him towards the door. ‘John! Chapter Eight, Verse Seven, I believe. Now, good day to you, Reverend Reeves! Take your unsolicited sermons elsewhere.’
‘Do you refuse to hear the word of God, sir?’
‘I refuse to listen to a sanctimonious, judgemental, self-righteous diatribe from a man who is little more than a gossipmonger.’
‘Gossipmonger!’ This, apparently, was the highest of insults as the vicar began to turn alarmingly purple. ‘I have it on the highest authority that—’
‘Highest authority? Whose?’
The vicar’s mouth opened to speak, then closed again, giving Jamie his answer.
‘I see. Hearsay? Gossip? History? Surely that is not what the Bible condones, Reverend?’ Jamie continued to walk the man to the door where Chivers stood waiting, still holding his elbow firmly.
‘Jamie.’
His brother’s calm voice penetrated his roiling temper. He understood the implication.
Stand down. We have to be above this.
He glanced at the wide-eyed Miss Reeves and saw the horror in those chocolate-brown depths and realised that his coarse physicality probably frightened her. Freckled-faced vicar’s daughters, as a rule, would not be exposed to such aggressive behaviour. Or at least he hoped she wasn’t.
Jamie let go of the man’s arm and forced his next words to be cold and final. ‘I believe the Gospel of John, Chapter Seven, Verse Twenty-Four, also tells us, “Judge not according to the appearance, but judge righteous judgement”. Righteous judgement. Based on actual facts rather than salacious rumours. Something, Reverend Reeves, you appear to be incapable of. Show him out, please, Chivers.’
The well-trained butler tried to manoeuvre the outraged vicar towards the hallway.
‘Cassandra. Come along, girl. Let us leave this house of sin!’
Jamie turned to see her stand, those beautiful brown eyes awash with tears. She sailed towards him miserably, wringing a handkerchief in both of her hands, and as she came level she never even looked at him. Whether that was out of embarrassment for her father’s behaviour or complete disgust at Jamie’s flash of temper he had no idea, but she continued towards the door in the wake of her father. Hunched. Afraid. Subservient. It was a horrible thing to see.
