arrayed against her, Clarice refused to budge. She adamantly refused to marry Emsworth.” James paused, then continued, “If she’d been a less formidable female, I daresay some rather less savory methods of persuasion would have been applied, but when Clarice declared a position, no one, not even then, doubted she would hold to it to her grave. So…”
“Stalemate,” Jack said. His nickname for the lady seemed remarkably apt.
“In a fashion, but it wasn’t a situation that could remain unresolved. Melton forced the issue by threatening to banish Clarice from his houses and estates.”
Jack’s jaw clenched tight. The notion of a lady of Clarice’s standing being tossed into the streets brought out every protective instinct he possessed. What had he fought the last thirteen years for? So well-heeled aristocrats could treat their daughters like that?
His disillusionment with tonnish society plumbed new depths.
“So you stepped in and brought her here.” He looked up at the rectory as they drew near once more.
“Not directly. Her three older brothers were appalled by Melton’s decree. They interceded and persuaded him to allow Clarice to retire from society and live here, with me.” James’s lips twisted wryly. “Within the family, I’m considered a black sheep, having gone into the Church and not even in the pursuit of power. Researching military strategies was never considered a suitable occupation for an Altwood. On the other hand, there are times the family is quite grateful to have a member of the Church as one of their own. And in this case, living so quietly here as I do, so cut off from society, my house seemed the perfect solution—much like those convents to which recalcitrant young ladies used to be sent to consider the follies of their ways.”
James’s slow smile returned. “Much to everyone’s surprise, Clarice agreed.”
Jack shot James a glance. “Did you know her? Did she know you?”
“Yes, but we’d only met a handful of times at family gatherings. Nevertheless, while I would hardly describe us as kindred souls, we’d both recognized the other as an amenable companion. We rub along quite nicely.”
Jack couldn’t imagine it, not for himself. “You don’t find having such a…lady”—termagent, battle-hardened warrior-queen—“constantly about distracting?”
“Not at all. While Clarice is hardly quiet or restful, there’s much to be said for having one’s house run by a highly competent female. And as I mentioned, she’s dealt with all those problems and questions that in your father’s absence, and yours, devolved to me—her presence has been a boon.”
Jack knew enough to read between the lines; James was frequently absentminded, and could go for long periods completely immersed in his researches, oblivious to all about him and crotchety if interrupted.
They drew level with the steps leading up to the front porch. Jack halted. “So…having had her fill of offers of marriage—three attempts, all devastating failures for one reason or another—Clarice retreated here, more or less turning her back on the usual young lady’s romantic dreams.”
James paused beside him; a considering frown on his face, he looked up at the house, somewhere in which the object of their discussion was no doubt busily managing something. “Do you think so?”
Jack glanced at him.
James stared unseeing at the door. “You know, I always saw it as the other way around. That far from turning away from love, Clarice dismissed as well lost a world without it.”
Jack blinked. He considered for a moment, then glanced at the front door. “Perhaps.” Another moment passed, then he stirred. “I’d best get back to the manor.”
James clapped him on the shoulder and they parted. Pensive still, Jack walked off down the drive.
For Clarice, the afternoon flew too swiftly, filled with myriad tasks and duties that had found their way onto her shoulders. Mrs. Swithins, the
“Stalemate,” Jack said. His nickname for the lady seemed remarkably apt.
“In a fashion, but it wasn’t a situation that could remain unresolved. Melton forced the issue by threatening to banish Clarice from his houses and estates.”
Jack’s jaw clenched tight. The notion of a lady of Clarice’s standing being tossed into the streets brought out every protective instinct he possessed. What had he fought the last thirteen years for? So well-heeled aristocrats could treat their daughters like that?
His disillusionment with tonnish society plumbed new depths.
“So you stepped in and brought her here.” He looked up at the rectory as they drew near once more.
“Not directly. Her three older brothers were appalled by Melton’s decree. They interceded and persuaded him to allow Clarice to retire from society and live here, with me.” James’s lips twisted wryly. “Within the family, I’m considered a black sheep, having gone into the Church and not even in the pursuit of power. Researching military strategies was never considered a suitable occupation for an Altwood. On the other hand, there are times the family is quite grateful to have a member of the Church as one of their own. And in this case, living so quietly here as I do, so cut off from society, my house seemed the perfect solution—much like those convents to which recalcitrant young ladies used to be sent to consider the follies of their ways.”
James’s slow smile returned. “Much to everyone’s surprise, Clarice agreed.”
Jack shot James a glance. “Did you know her? Did she know you?”
“Yes, but we’d only met a handful of times at family gatherings. Nevertheless, while I would hardly describe us as kindred souls, we’d both recognized the other as an amenable companion. We rub along quite nicely.”
Jack couldn’t imagine it, not for himself. “You don’t find having such a…lady”—termagent, battle-hardened warrior-queen—“constantly about distracting?”
“Not at all. While Clarice is hardly quiet or restful, there’s much to be said for having one’s house run by a highly competent female. And as I mentioned, she’s dealt with all those problems and questions that in your father’s absence, and yours, devolved to me—her presence has been a boon.”
Jack knew enough to read between the lines; James was frequently absentminded, and could go for long periods completely immersed in his researches, oblivious to all about him and crotchety if interrupted.
They drew level with the steps leading up to the front porch. Jack halted. “So…having had her fill of offers of marriage—three attempts, all devastating failures for one reason or another—Clarice retreated here, more or less turning her back on the usual young lady’s romantic dreams.”
James paused beside him; a considering frown on his face, he looked up at the house, somewhere in which the object of their discussion was no doubt busily managing something. “Do you think so?”
Jack glanced at him.
James stared unseeing at the door. “You know, I always saw it as the other way around. That far from turning away from love, Clarice dismissed as well lost a world without it.”
Jack blinked. He considered for a moment, then glanced at the front door. “Perhaps.” Another moment passed, then he stirred. “I’d best get back to the manor.”
James clapped him on the shoulder and they parted. Pensive still, Jack walked off down the drive.
For Clarice, the afternoon flew too swiftly, filled with myriad tasks and duties that had found their way onto her shoulders. Mrs. Swithins, the
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