t'other female? Your stepsister?"
"Suzannah's worse in her way. Last time I saw her, before I shipped out, she was a thirteen-year-old hoyden up in the trees with the local squire's son."
"Time cures a lot of high spirits, I'm thinking."
"It didn't do a lot for Harry and Joss. Damn, females and farming!" He had another glass. Rudd cut a slice of bread and shoved it near his hand, where Carey was sorting through the rest of his mail. "Bunch of condolences. What in hell do I care if some old harridan's got nothing better to do than write about her sympathy for my loss? He was my father, blast it!" Carey threw the glass across the tent and stormed out.
"Waste of good brandy, if you ask me," Rudd muttered after him.
When Captain Delverson returned some hours later—how far could he go with French troops behind every other hill?—he finished reading the letters. The scrawled envelope had to be from Suzannah; what had his father been about to get the chit so little schooling? Carey's stepsister wrote that she was distraught at the loss, but Carey should not worry about her, only about killing all the Frenchies he could find. She could come cook for him if he wanted, otherwise she hoped he would send his permission for her to marry Heywood Jeffers, the squire's son. So much for hopes that Suzannah was maturing into a sensible female.
The next letter brought him even less satisfaction. Emonda wrote in a thin, small hand, twice crossed so he could barely decipher the words. She too would miss Lord Delverson, who was a fine man to have taken in a homeless orphan like herself and even set aside a small dowry for her. Emonda did not mean to be a drain on Carey, she wrote, because she was no relative of his whatsoever and would not like to be a burden. Emonda went on to explain that she would go out for a governess as soon as Carey sent instructions as to which relatives she should send Suzannah. Unless, of course, he meant to let Suzannah wed the neighbor's boy.
Let his sister marry at fifteen and his seventeen-year-old stepaunt set out in the world to make her own living? Carey would sooner help Napoleon cross the Channel. Furious, he took out pen and paper.
You stay right where you are at Delmere, he wrote Emonda, and make sure that Suzannah does the same. Seeing that she doesn't
go off on some jingle-brained start is the least you can do for my fathers memory. If you wish to be an instructor of young ladies, I suggest you start with your niece. I shall be in touch with Mr. Hayes concerning the estate since I am unable to return to England until after the next campaign. Yr. obed. servant.
Then he wrote to the solicitor and to Harry, hoping the letter would find his scapegrace cousin wherever he was: Cousin, please do not let me down. Get to Dorset posthaste, make sure the bailiff is honest, and, above all, find some respectable woman to oversee the girls. Yrs. He added a postscript: And keep your hands off Emonda. She's family. Carey didn't think his mousy little aunt was in Harry's style, being a tiny dab of a washed-out blonde with die-away airs, but it never hurt to be careful where his cousin was concerned.
Having done what he could about family matters—hell and blast, he was head of the family now!—Captain Delverson pulled out another sheet and wrote a letter of appreciation to the only condolence note that made any sense. Miss Rowanne Wimberly had written how sad he must be to learn such news at a distance, and how helpless to change anything. She understood because her own parents had died when she could not be with them and she missed them still. She wrote in an elegant copperplate that she was sure his father must have been proud of him, and then she wished him Godspeed.
In the middle of his sorrow and Emonda's hysteria, in the chaos of war, Miss Wimberly was like a safe harbor. On the eve of battle, Carey took out the cameo and wrote a letter to the girl in the locket.
Some two months later, after a
"Suzannah's worse in her way. Last time I saw her, before I shipped out, she was a thirteen-year-old hoyden up in the trees with the local squire's son."
"Time cures a lot of high spirits, I'm thinking."
"It didn't do a lot for Harry and Joss. Damn, females and farming!" He had another glass. Rudd cut a slice of bread and shoved it near his hand, where Carey was sorting through the rest of his mail. "Bunch of condolences. What in hell do I care if some old harridan's got nothing better to do than write about her sympathy for my loss? He was my father, blast it!" Carey threw the glass across the tent and stormed out.
"Waste of good brandy, if you ask me," Rudd muttered after him.
When Captain Delverson returned some hours later—how far could he go with French troops behind every other hill?—he finished reading the letters. The scrawled envelope had to be from Suzannah; what had his father been about to get the chit so little schooling? Carey's stepsister wrote that she was distraught at the loss, but Carey should not worry about her, only about killing all the Frenchies he could find. She could come cook for him if he wanted, otherwise she hoped he would send his permission for her to marry Heywood Jeffers, the squire's son. So much for hopes that Suzannah was maturing into a sensible female.
The next letter brought him even less satisfaction. Emonda wrote in a thin, small hand, twice crossed so he could barely decipher the words. She too would miss Lord Delverson, who was a fine man to have taken in a homeless orphan like herself and even set aside a small dowry for her. Emonda did not mean to be a drain on Carey, she wrote, because she was no relative of his whatsoever and would not like to be a burden. Emonda went on to explain that she would go out for a governess as soon as Carey sent instructions as to which relatives she should send Suzannah. Unless, of course, he meant to let Suzannah wed the neighbor's boy.
Let his sister marry at fifteen and his seventeen-year-old stepaunt set out in the world to make her own living? Carey would sooner help Napoleon cross the Channel. Furious, he took out pen and paper.
You stay right where you are at Delmere, he wrote Emonda, and make sure that Suzannah does the same. Seeing that she doesn't
go off on some jingle-brained start is the least you can do for my fathers memory. If you wish to be an instructor of young ladies, I suggest you start with your niece. I shall be in touch with Mr. Hayes concerning the estate since I am unable to return to England until after the next campaign. Yr. obed. servant.
Then he wrote to the solicitor and to Harry, hoping the letter would find his scapegrace cousin wherever he was: Cousin, please do not let me down. Get to Dorset posthaste, make sure the bailiff is honest, and, above all, find some respectable woman to oversee the girls. Yrs. He added a postscript: And keep your hands off Emonda. She's family. Carey didn't think his mousy little aunt was in Harry's style, being a tiny dab of a washed-out blonde with die-away airs, but it never hurt to be careful where his cousin was concerned.
Having done what he could about family matters—hell and blast, he was head of the family now!—Captain Delverson pulled out another sheet and wrote a letter of appreciation to the only condolence note that made any sense. Miss Rowanne Wimberly had written how sad he must be to learn such news at a distance, and how helpless to change anything. She understood because her own parents had died when she could not be with them and she missed them still. She wrote in an elegant copperplate that she was sure his father must have been proud of him, and then she wished him Godspeed.
In the middle of his sorrow and Emonda's hysteria, in the chaos of war, Miss Wimberly was like a safe harbor. On the eve of battle, Carey took out the cameo and wrote a letter to the girl in the locket.
Some two months later, after a
Similar Books
