The Gypsy Legacy: Marquis Page 14

  What would Jay do if she insisted on a season first? Did she even want one? When it was accepted that she would marry Aaron, there hadn’t been a need for a season. He’d promised, instead, to take her to London to see the sights after their marriage. But the charming young man who’d agreed to the terms of the betrothal contract and the man who’d assaulted her were two different people. If they’d married, she wondered if he’d ever have taken her to Town.

  Felicia, unaware of the currents flowing between Tina and Jay, chatted about various topics and people through most of dinner. Tina noticed recently she was more cheerful than she had been in the years since their mother’s death. It was good to see her enjoying herself again, and Tina derived a measure of happiness from her sister’s obvious contentment. If only she could be so easily satisfied.

  Her guilt over Aaron’s death pushed her inexorably toward agreeing to marry Jay. It was what her stepfather wanted and, contract or no, she’d promised.

  After dinner, Felicia offered to play for them so the three of them trouped off to the music room where Felicia performed an impromptu one-person concert. Tina pleaded tiredness when Jay asked if she played, but promised to reciprocate another time.

  All in all, the evening managed to pass quickly and soon Tina found herself back in her room, undressed and crawling between cool sheets. She hadn’t prevaricated. Tonight she was exhausted, more emotionally than physically, but tired all the same. She was asleep before her maid left the room.

  *

  Jay spent the next day closeted in the study, emerging only for meals. He seemed preoccupied and barely acknowledged her presence at luncheon, although he bantered with Felicia as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Tina found his behavior puzzling and tried not to dwell on it too much. But that was not to be.

  Did he regret his hasty proposal? Was he disgusted by her response to his kiss? She worried he thought the worst of her—that she was free with her favors. After all, wasn’t that what many men thought of gypsy women? Mira had warned her once English men considered gypsy women to be of easy virtue. She had told her English women were cold and unfeeling and English men expected such aloofness from their wives.

  “But you will not be so, little one,” Mira reminded her. “You have the fire in your blood.”

  Tina hadn’t wanted to have fire in her blood. She wanted to be a lady—and ladies did not have fire in their blood. She had carefully cultivated a calm demeanor and serious disposition. She would be the perfect marchioness.

  Once she had been as easy and outgoing as Felicia, impulsive and with a temper. But she ruthlessly squelched it, burying all those emotions beneath layers of self-control. And she had succeeded. Roderick Milton had not been able to rile her. Even Lizzy Bowen had not been able to goad her into losing her temper. No one besides Felicia had ever been able to ruffle her feathers, until now.

  She wondered what Jay thought of her outbursts yesterday. Had he been surprised? Shocked? She had certainly astonished herself with her reaction. It had been many years since she reacted in a purely emotional fashion to anything.

  When Aaron died, she had initially cried tears of relief, but they had quickly turned to guilt. Rationally, she knew she hadn’t caused his death, but a part of her had wished he would never return and that part taunted her with the knowledge her wish had been granted.

  Aaron’s death had nearly destroyed his father and the old marquis had died not knowing whether his second son was even still alive, leaving his wishes for his holdings in limbo. He had wanted her to have them, but if Jay hadn’t arrived, Felicia would have inherited them.

  All that no longer mattered. One of his sons would inherit—she had the chance to be marchioness as he wished—and she was not repelled by marriage to this particular son. Everything seemed to be falling neatly into place. So why was she making more out of this than seemed called for?

  Because she would be letting Nona down and Nona was her own flesh and blood. Shouldn’t that count for something?

  *

  Jay sought Tina out the next afternoon and asked her to accompany him into the village. There were some repairs to the stables that needed to be made and he wanted to consult the blacksmith. He also wanted to gauge the state of the village and look in on the vicar. Furthermore, it might be a good opportunity to speak to her alone and repair some of the damage he might have done. She seemed to hesitate before she agreed.

  The afternoon was hot, with barely a breeze stirring the air, the sky a cloudless blue. The bays were restless as Tina descended the front stairs, tying her bonnet beneath her chin. Dressed in a light-green muslin with touches of white around the puffed sleeves and hem, Jay was reminded as he waited for her to reach him he owed the Dowager Countess of Wynton a note of thanks. He smiled at the thought. The dowager might not understand, nor appreciate it, but he might write one all the same. Maybe it would pique her curiosity.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  He lifted her to the seat, releasing her reluctantly once she was settled. Moving around to the other side, he climbed up into the seat and took up the reins. Eddie released the horses and they were off. He set an easy pace down the drive and waited until they had turned onto the road to the village before turning to her.

  “I must apologize for neglecting you these past two days. I have been trying to finish up the matters we left in the study before I ran off to Exeter.”

  “It is not necessary to apologize, my lord. I have not felt neglected.”

  “Jay.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “Jay. I think we have gone beyond the formalities by now. Do you think you could call me Jay?”

  Tina blinked. “I—I see,” she said nervously. “Well, yes, I suppose I can.”

  He flashed her a broad smile. “Good.” Then turned to concentrate on the horses.

  Jay was aware of her tension, and relieved when she finally relaxed. He wondered if she was concerned over his driving, or just nervous in his presence? He could allay any fears over the former, but wasn’t quite sure what to do if it was the latter. The scene in the library had replayed again and again in his head over the last day and a half and he wondered again if there had been a better way to handle the matter of the betrothal contract.

  Telling her the truth wouldn’t have hurt, his conscience nagged. But he had discarded that notion. The time to tell her the truth had been before he asked her to marry him. Now she would just assume he had wanted Thane Park all along. And that wouldn’t be completely true.

  Just as he shied away from telling her of the will, he refused to acknowledge to himself he wanted her—and not just because Thane Park, Collingswood, and his entire patrimony came with her.

  Chapter Nine

  Parkton lay a short distance from the Park. It was a typical village with small whitewashed cottages, an open green, a few shops, and a small church. The local tavern and inn, the Hill and Dale, sat on the outskirts of the north end of the village while Daisy’s cottage sat near the south end. Tina noted there seemed to be no one about when they passed Daisy’s cottage, but knew the smaller children would be napping because it was right after luncheon.

  Tina had not been in the village beyond Daisy’s cottage for well over a year. She was, therefore, astonished at the state of some of the buildings and the general aura of dilapidation that pervaded the area. During the last few weeks she had concentrated on the state of the Park’s tenants, but had given very little thought to what might have been happening in the village. It had not occurred to her the area had become so depressed.

  The vicarage was a large ivy-covered cottage sitting beside the church on one side of the village green. As they approached, Jay turned to her.

  “I thought I’d check on the vicar. If I remember correctly, Felicia thought he was in ill health. I’m assuming Mr. Farthingale is still here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then it might be true. I remember him as being quite old when I was a young bo
y, or so it seemed.”

  Tina did not let her nervousness show. She’d had no contact with anyone from the village beyond Daisy’s family since her mother’s death. Her last contact with the vicar had been shortly after she had come out of mourning, when she had asked him to tutor Felicia. At the time, he informed her he would not do so unless the rumors currently making the rounds in the village were addressed. When she asked him what he meant, he had told her there were rumors in the village that she and her sister were consorting with gypsies and casting spells. He had then told her unless she repented publicly, he could not condone such practices by tutoring Felicia.

  His disbelief when she told him she would not apologize for something she hadn’t done told her all she needed to know. The situation was made worse when he’d made them unwelcome at Sunday services.

  The housekeeper met them at the door and showed them into the parlor. The vicar arrived a few minutes later. Moving slowly into the room, he extended his hand.

  “My lord, it’s good to see you again.”

  Jay shook the thin hand, then took a seat as the vicar seated himself. Tina hoped Jay would merely discuss his concerns with the vicar, and not bring attention to her, but it was not to be. Turning to her, he said to the vicar, “You remember, Lady Christina, do you not?”

  The vicar looked up and pinned her with his mud brown gaze. “I do, my lord,” he responded curtly, and turned back to Jay. “Now what can I do for you?”

  Jay was clearly astounded at the deliberate snub. “Rudeness does not become a man of the cloth, sir.”

  The vicar, surprised at the reprimand, peered closely at Jay. “And why would I wish to extend my hospitality to that person or her sister?” he replied indignantly. “T’would be unseemly.”

  Jay would have moved then had Tina not reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “No, my lord. Please, do not do anything rash.” He turned to look at her then. Her eyes pleaded with him for calm and he responded. “I will wait outside.” And with that, she rose to her feet, nodded to the vicar, and left the room.

  Once outside, she took a deep breath. So much for hoping things would have changed. She now questioned the soundness of continuing on with Jay. He may not have thought there was any reason why she shouldn’t go into the village, but she knew she probably should not have come. It had been hard to pass up the opportunity to get to know him better by watching him interact with the locals.

  There were only a few families in the entire area who disbelieved the lies Roderick Milton had told them. Having convinced the vicar, then coupled with a few unfortunate accidents, Milton managed to convince most of the villagers she and Felicia were little better than devil-worshipers.

  Jay came out of the vicarage some minutes later, a scowl on his handsome face. It was clear whatever he had come to discuss had not been completed to his satisfaction. Lifting her to the seat, he joined her from the other side and took up the reins.

  “You have not been to the village in some time, am I right?”

  “No,” she answered, startled by the curt question. “Not for over a year, perhaps two.”

  “Why?”

  “After Mr. Farthingale refused to tutor Felicia because of rumors circulating through the village, I felt it was best not to.”

  “And Felicia?”

  “I told her she should probably avoid the village, but I doubt she did. She loves Daisy and her family, and they—and perhaps one or two others—were not inclined to believe the rumors.”

  “I see,” he said grimly. “Should I expect the same reception at the blacksmith’s?”

  “I don’t know, although Daisy’s daughter, Ella, is Mr. Smythe’s daughter-in-law. Perhaps not.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Either way, it doesn’t matter. I have done nothing wrong, so I have left it at that.”

  He said nothing as they came to a stop before the blacksmith’s. Tina held her silence as Jay helped her down. He would have steered her toward the dark interior from which came the sounds of metal striking metal had she not balked, saying she preferred to wait outside. She could tell he did not want to leave her, but short of forcing her to accompany him, there was little he could do. Promising to be brief, he left her sitting on a bench underneath a small tree and strode into the shop.

  Tina sat in the shade of the tree for a few minutes until she began to feel conspicuous. There were relatively few people outside at this time of day, so no one came by as she sat there, but knowing it would only be a matter of time, she didn’t want to wait for a possible disaster to happen. Rising to her feet, she spied the dressmaker’s shop across the way. It had been so long since she had been here she no longer knew who owned the little establishment.

  A nagging voice warned her she should stay where she had been left.

  But, it was hot and dusty outside. What would it hurt to take a peek? Perhaps she could provide some business. She had a few coins in her reticule. A ribbon or two wouldn’t be amiss. The gowns made for her and Felicia by Madame were nice, but a few locally made ones would be better for everyday chores around the estate.

  She should stay put, the inner voice reminded her. Jay expected to find her here when he returned.

  In the end, curiosity won out and she crossed the street to the small shop. The interior was cool and dim, the only light coming in through the front window. Bolts of fabric lined a wall to her right, many beginning to fade around the edges, and a small table to her left held unadorned straw bonnets with ribbons and other decorations displayed around them. She was examining some of the ribbon when a woman came from behind the curtain hung behind the counter.

  “Can I help you?”

  She looked up and knew she had made a serious error in coming inside. Mrs. Barnes stood there, smiling, until she realized who had entered the shop.

  “You!” The accusatory tone told Tina all she needed to know. Mrs. Barnes had not forgiven her for the death of her baby girl two years ago.

  Retreating was not an option. “Good day to you, Mrs. Barnes.”

  Greta Barnes considered herself a good Christian woman, and she knew adversity often befell small children. But, she had not been able to get out of her head that the fire had happened the day after Lady Christina had visited her, especially considering the rumors. And that oh-so-nice Mr. Milton had been so concerned over her loss. He ordered a new cottage built, but their grief had been ignored by the ladies of the manor. The last straw, however, had been when the new cottage had begun to deteriorate and Mr. Milton informed her and her husband there was no money to make repairs. He had been forbidden, he said, by Lady Christina to make any more expenditures on repairs until they could be personally inspected by the marquis.

  “I never thought you’d have the cheek to come here, of all places,” she replied to Tina’s greeting, outrage in every word.

  Puzzled, Tina regarded Mrs. Barnes for a moment. She had been sorry for the baby’s death—had even sent over a basket with Mr. Milton and her condolences. But, after realizing Mrs. Barnes blamed her, she had stayed away, not wanting to exacerbate her grief.

  “I don’t understand,” she said. “Why would I…”

  Another woman entered the shop. Tina automatically took a few steps into the center of the room to allow her to enter. She turned to greet the woman, and discovered Mrs. Pettigrew. Could it get any worse? she asked herself as Mrs. Pettigrew gave her a freezing look and turned away to speak to Mrs. Barnes.

  Of course it could, was the answer as another woman entered the shop. She was again subjected to a disdainful perusal, before the newcomer also turned away.

  “Wot’s she doing here?” the newcomer asked Mrs. Barnes.

  “Just walked in,” was the answer. The woman, one she did not recognize, looked her up and down, then left the small shop. Mrs. Barnes and Mrs. Pettigrew pointedly ignored her while they conversed in low voices.

  Deciding she had best leave while they were otherwise occupied ignoring her, she headed for the door. It opened again, this time to a
dmit Mrs. Staple. Good God, was everyone in the village going to enter this one small shop?

  Mrs. Staple took one look at her and stopped dead in the doorway, effectively blocking her way out.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” she declared loudly.

  Tina knew she had to get out of the shop, now. It was a small space and becoming quite crowded. There was outright animosity in the three faces around her and she wondered if they would resort to violence. Trying not to allow her trepidation to show, she lifted her head.

  “Excuse me,” she said in her loftiest voice, “I was just leaving.”

  “Too good for the likes of us,” came Mrs. Pettigrew’s voice from behind her.

  “Hmmph,” a voice she recognized as belonging to Greta Barnes intoned, “more’n likely she ain’t good enough for us. Better let her through, Wilma. She ain’t wanted here anyway.”

  Mrs. Staple came into the shop to allow her to pass. Unfortunately, there were others behind her and Tina’s way was still blocked. Angry and hostile faces stared at her. The women behind her whispered amongst themselves, and a buzz circulated through the growing crowd before her. The mumblings became a rumble, then a dull roar that reverberated through her head.

  Oh, God! They hated her. Tina’s thoughts scrambled for a reason and found none. What had she done? Or, worse yet, what had the steward done? How had he managed to turn the entire village against her? There must have been more than the rumors concerning gypsies.

  Tina had no doubt this situation was Roderick Milton’s doing. Somehow he had managed to dupe the whole village into believing who-knew-what about her. She knew many in the village refused to do business with her household, but it had never occurred to her the general dislike extended to her personally. Certainly, Mr. Milton had done nothing to gain their approval. Nothing except turn them against you, a small voice reminded her.