Chapter Nineteen
As she had expected, Amberley was a very active sort of place, despite its tranquil outer appearance, and it was evident that the four very active children within ruled over all. Colin, for all his attempts, only made things worse, which was rather expected. No one believed his pretended authoritative persona, and he was soon dragged into the dispute as a participant rather than the mediator.
As all of this was taking place within full sight of the front door to Amberley, Kit and Marianne had a perfect few of the fracas. Kit had quietly asked housekeeper taking their things what the trouble was, and she had relayed what she could, but she had wisely decided to stay out of it.
It seemed the finer points of pall-mall were being disputed, as the Gerrard children had formed their own version of the game, and someone, it was not entirely clear who, had broken one of the more serious parameters. Whether it was an actual pall-mall rule or a Gerrard rule was also unclear, and Marianne watched with fascination as the children argued viciously, even the usually silent Ginny was red-faced and indignant. Colin looked utterly lost amidst the strife and his voice could be heard among the din of the others, though it was hardly a voice of reason.
Beside her, Kit heaved a long-suffering sigh and shook his head as he ventured into the melee.
“Can I fetch you some refreshment, Mrs. Gerrard?” the kind housekeeper asked as she took Marianne’s bonnet and cloak, perfectly poised and acting as if this were a perfectly normal occurrence for the house.
Then again, perhaps it was.
Marianne smiled and said, “No, I thank you. If you might only tell me where I may find your mistress? I should like to visit with her.”
The housekeeper smiled warmly. “She and the little lass are in her chambers, madam. I’d have a girl take you, but…”
“No need,” Marianne interrupted gently. “There is quite enough to be getting on with. Give me the direction and I shall find it well enough.”
The directions were given and Marianne made her way up the stairs, brushing at her skirts a little. She wasn’t so dusty, but it was hard to avoid it even with the carriage. She perhaps ought to change, but she would rather not stand on ceremony for the moment, and she doubted Susannah would mind very much.
She took stock of the comfortably situated house, everything warm and cozy, perfect for raising a family destined to be a bit wild, yet it was all with enough finery to be admired, even if reluctantly by those with more elaborate tastes. There were windows in abundance, flooding the entire house with natural light and conflicting with the more gothic exterior delightfully. She would get a better look at the house in its entirety later, but thus far, she was quite impressed.
She reached Susannah’s chambers and knocked softly, gaining entrance at once.
Susannah was reclining on the bed, her honey colored hair loose in long waves about her, dressed in a comfortable day dress, and still a little pale, but altogether looking well and whole. She grinned in delight at seeing Marianne there, and made to rise.
“No, don’t you dare,” Marianne scolded immediately, entering the room fully and closing the door behind her. “I will come to you.”
Susannah lifted a brow and sat back with a grunt. “I can do things, you know. Colin has me practically confined in here, and I am likely to go mad from it.”
“For once, I am in agreement with Colin,” Marianne replied airily coming to the other side of the bed and sitting next to Susannah, taking her hand. “But don’t you dare tell him.”
Susannah laughed warmly and leaned her head back against the pillow.
“How are you?” Marianne asked her, squeezing her hand. “I heard it was a rather long time for you.”
“Yes, longer than even Freddie,” Susannah said with a wrinkle of her nose, “and I never thought that was possible. But I am very well, truly. I tire easily and my sleep is frequently disturbed, as you can imagine,” her blue-green eyes turned soft as she looked over at a nearby bassinet that Marianne had missed, “but my little angel makes it so hard to resent that.”
Marianne could not take her eyes off of the bassinet. Her heart suddenly pounded with too much difficulty and her breath caught. She got to her feet awkwardly and made her way to it, unaccountably choked up by the dear little infant sleeping contentedly within. Wide eyes and delicate lashes rested upon round cheeks and above a pert little nose, and those perfect lips Kit had mentioned were parted ever so slightly as faint puffs of air raced passed them. Her hair was dark, but it was too soon to say if that would be her actual color. She hoped it was. A darling little dark-haired girl with plentiful curls driving Colin mad for the rest of his life.
She smiled as she touched a finger to an open, tiny palm, and nearly laughed when the delicate fingers curved around it. “May I hold her?” she asked Susannah softly.
“Of course.”
She lifted the infant into her arms and was struck by how comfortable it felt, how right. Even when she’d held Tillie it hadn’t been like this. But then, she hadn’t been the same woman then.
“She is beautiful, Susannah,” she murmured, coming back over to the bed. “Absolutely perfect.”
“Thank you,” Susannah replied as she dusted a fond finger over her daughter’s cheek. “You should hear Colin go on about her. One would think we had done something rare and extraordinary.”
“Haven’t you?”
The question seemed to catch Susannah off-guard and she cocked her head. “I suppose,” she said slowly, watching Marianne carefully. When she didn’t respond, Susannah sat up a little bit and pulled her hair behind her. “How are you, Marianne? How was Glendare?”
Marianne suddenly became very focused on Olivia and turned a bit away, unable to help smiling. “It was lovely, thank you. It was just what I needed.”
“Are you… are you blushing?” Susannah suddenly asked, incredulous.
Marianne felt her face heat even more and her smile deepened.
“Marianne Gerrard! You never blush!” Susannah gushed, swinging her legs to the side of the bed like a child. “You tell me right now what that is about! What happened?”
Marianne shook her head and bounced the baby. “Nothing happened.”
“That sort of nothing is just the sort of nothing that positively begs to be spoken of.”
Again, she shook her head, raising her eyes to meet Susannah’s reluctantly.
Her sister-in-law looked determined to a fiendish degree and her eyes flashed. “You tell me everything now, or I will go to Colin and tell him you have a secret about his brother, and you know what that means.”
Marianne’s widened as she blanched in horror. Colin would be insufferable and annoying, poking and prodding and raising all kinds of hell until she was too embarrassed to do anything but give in. At least Susannah had some measure of sense. And she knew Kit as well as anybody, perhaps she could offer some insight.
With a resigned sigh, she sank back onto the bed and tucked Olivia against her as if she could shield her. Slowly, but honestly, she revealed everything from their weeks at Glendare, the good and the bad, the embarrassing and the delightful, far more confusing and emotional in the telling than she’d thought possible.
They’d been here one afternoon, a night, and a morning, and already Kit had resolved more fights than he’d ever been in with Colin, he was sure of it. He loved his sisters madly, but they were also conniving and brilliant and impossible.
That was what they had inherited, or learned, from Colin.
The trouble was that they appeared so innocent and sweet, and no one suspected they could possibly be so much trouble.
That part might have been a little bit him.
He sighed as he wandered the halls a little, wondering where his family was at this moment. It was too quiet, but Mrs. Creighton was a stern taskmaster when it came to lessons. She might not know how to corral the children when it came to pall-mall, but no one could hold that against her. They were Gerrards, after all. Even Freddie, though not a Gerrard by birth, had exhibited all of the finer qualities, and most of the lesser ones, of the family.
And Marianne… Marianne had…
Well, somehow she’d settled the most violent of disputes between the girls not that long ago, and had done so with ease and grace, listening to all sides with far more patience and understanding than he could ever have managed. He had been unable to comprehend the argument at all, something to do with dresses and combs or some other girlish nonsense. But it must have been serious, for Marianne had never once quivered with any hint of amusement. Bitty and Ginny had heeded her with respect and adoration, and then proceeded to regale her with tales of their country adventures.
Rosie had moodily left the room and he’d not seen her since, but neither had he been paying attention. He and Colin had escaped the gaggle of females for a ride across the estate, and he’d only just returned, Colin having rushed up to check on his wife and daughter for the twelfth time.
Kit frowned in thought. Rosie needed to get over her dislike of Marianne and accept her, respect her as she did Susannah. She might never be a motherly type to her, and he did not expect that, but she was his wife, and as such, she deserved some regard.
He nearly missed them, quietly sitting on the floor together in the drawing room, and pulled back to remain out of sight. Not that they would have seen him, as their backs were turned. Rosie sat rather mulishly, picking at the embroidery on her skirt, and Marianne sat far more elegantly beside her, looking at the younger girl with concern.
At one time he would have bet money that Marianne would never sit on the floor regardless of the situation, and more recently he would have bet more money that she would never elect to be alone with Rosie, yet here she was doing both, willingly and without anyone else around.
“Perhaps you’d like me if you got to know me,” Marianne was saying softly, a small smile on her lips. “It might not be so bad, you know.”
Rosie shrugged a little, not meeting her gaze. “Maybe. Kit likes you now, so that says something.”
Kit winced as Marianne leaned back in surprise. “How do you know he likes me?”
Again, Rosie shrugged, but she tossed her hair a little, as if what she was about to say was common knowledge. “He used to not smile. Now he does.”
She had a point.
“Oh…” Marianne murmured, her eyes widening.
Rosie brushed at her skirts and folded her fingers together, looking down at them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
If Marianne knew Rosie better, she would not dare to consent so easily.
“Will you answer it honestly?”
“Yes.”
Rosie finally looked up at her, cocking her head slightly. “Why did you and Kit get married so fast?”
Marianne’s brows rose slowly and Kit held his breath, knowing he ought to interject before this got out of hand, but at the same time wanting to see how it played out.
He watched with anxiety as Marianne sighed softly, her expression taking on a faraway look. “We got married in the manner we did because… I needed saving. From myself. I had behaved very badly indeed, hardly the behavior of a proper young woman, and it got out of hand. Your brothers came to save me, and rather than having me endure punishment and ridicule, Kit offered to marry me. And it was better for all if it was very fast and without any sort of fuss. I didn’t even have a proper trousseau, and you know what a shocking thing that is for any bride.” She shuddered and smirked a little.
Rosie cracked a smile at Marianne’s suddenly sarcastic tone, and Kit felt all of his breath escape in one massive rush of air, surprised that no one heard it.
Marianne reached out to pat Rosie’s knee, knowing better than to be too familiar with her. “I wish we could have had the time to do things properly. I would like to have met you girls and let you get used to the idea, and to me, before all of that, but it wasn’t possible. I am sorry for that.”
Rosie nodded, looking thoughtful. “If you could change things,” she asked in a surprisingly mature tone for a girl of ten, “would you?”
Marianne sat back, suddenly seeming almost wistful. “I would change me, and my decisions. I would most certainly change myself.” She slowly shook her head, smiling. “But those decisions led me to this marriage with Kit, and I wouldn’t change that.”
Rosie’s smile grew and she sat up a little taller, apparently having decided on her feelings at last and a much more animated discussion of books began.
Kit slid even further out of sight and rested his forehead against the wall, trying to process what he had just heard, and what had happened.
Marianne was making a conquest of everyone, even his stubborn little Rosie. She was open and artless, warm and encouraging, and utterly unlike any version of her he had seen before Glendare. Gone was the prim and proper heiress who had barely tolerated the children before, and barely tolerated anyone at all, despite their admiration, or lack thereof. Somehow, she’d always been able to draw people in. Even as a young girl, when he had first loved her, she’d had an air of something rather hypnotic that dared others to follow. Once she had learned how to harness and control that power, she’d unleashed it to all of London freely and without restraint.
Now it was reined in once more, but no less potent.
Better still, she had found a heart, or ceased hiding it, and she was a creature reborn. Something pure and delightful and winsome, a breath of spring air in a field of wildflowers. He wanted more and more of this, days and weeks and years of it. Slowly and steadily, she was melting away the last edges of his resistance to her.
What would become of him then? If she managed to ensnare him once more, would he be lost to everyone in the world but her?
Would he mind so very much?
If she remained as she was, it might not be so bad. But if she changed once more, if she became caught up in the spirit of London, as she had done before, it would be the bitterest form of torment.
How far did he trust her?
How far did he trust himself?
For a man who made a concentrated effort to feel nothing, he felt his emotions with surprising strength and depth, with an intensity that was a damned nuisance. He had loved her with a passion, and he had hated her with one just as strong. If he let himself go fully now, when things were beyond his wildest imaginations, it would consume him, whole-heartedly and without restraint. There would be no recovery, and if this did not last, it would shatter everything that made him who he was.
He thanked God his control was as strong as any of his emotions, for the fear of losing himself was paralyzing.
It all came down to trust. Belief. Confidence in the course before him. He could not properly act until then.
Perhaps Rosie was more like him than he’d ever thought.
“Kit?”
He made a face at Colin’s voice, low and bemused.
“What are you doing?” his brother asked, coming to lean his back against the wall next to him.
“Trying to figure out to whom I am married,” Kit muttered.
“You’ve forgotten?”
“Yes.”
“That’s a shame. I rather like her.”
Kit cracked an eye open and looked at him. “Do you? You warned me off enough.”
“Yes, well, she was not the same person then, and nor were you.”
“Hence the problem,” Kit groaned, closing his eyes again.
“If she can manage little Gerrards so effectively, you’ve married the right woman. Circumstances or not, Kit, this is turning out rather well. For both of you.”
Kit squeezed his eyes shut against the burst of pleasure and pain that seared him. If only he knew what the future held. If only he weren’t such a coward. If only…
Colin let out a low chuckle. “Why is your face in the wall?”
Kit released a short, irritated sigh. “Because at this moment that is the best place for it.”
“Right…” He shifted uncomfortably. “Susannah says you want to take the children to London with you. Are you mad?”
“Probably. But it was my wife’s idea.”
Colin choked on air, and grabbed his shoulder, forcing him from the wall and shoving him down the hall towards the study. “Now that is something I need to hear. Go.”