“He is not happy,” Callie fairly shouted. “He doesn’t like them. He wants me. I know he does.” She buried her face in her hands and began to cry again. “Why, oh why does he not come to see me? I am here all day and that man, that man he thinks is his father, would allow him anything, so why does Talis not come to me? He said that if we could not be together here we would go back to the farm. But he lied. Why?”
“I do not know, sweetheart,” Will said, pulling her into his arms, not wanting her to see the shock on his face at hearing that Talis had lied. “But I will try to find out.” For a moment he stroked her hair, then, trying to lighten her mood, he said, “What would you have of Talis? Would you like for him to buy you a fine house like that one?” he asked, pointing toward Hadley Hall.
Callie didn’t hear the note of envy in Will’s voice, envy that another man could give the children what he could not. If it hadn’t been for Meg, they wouldn’t even have learned to read and write.
“No, I don’t want a house. I want…” Wiping her eyes with the back of her hand, she said, “I want him not to be ashamed of me.”
“Ashamed of you? Callie, how could you say such a thing about Talis? He never wants to be without you.”
“Yes, but that was when he had no one else. Now that he has the choice among all these beautiful women, he does not want to see me. His father is this rich John Hadley, while I am the daughter of a dreadful man named Gilbert Rasher. There are horrible stories about him! Talis does not want to be seen with such as me. I am the Poison Girl.”
Will did not know what to say to her to calm her. He well knew that Talis was not ashamed of her, but he also knew that something bad was happening if the children were not together. Or perhaps this was just the way it was in rich households; he did not know.
“Come, now,” he said coaxingly. “What would you have of Talis?”
“Nothing. I want nothing of him.”
“Do not give me your pride. I know what you feel for him. Tell me a story of what you would have of Talis.”
When she looked at him, her eyes were serious. “Talis thinks he owns me. He thinks that I am his, yet he has done nothing to win me. Do you understand? He has not fought for me!”
“Yes,” Will said, understanding that courtship was so important to a woman. And it was true that Talis had never done anything to court Callie. Sometimes it was as though they had been born married to each other.
“I want Talis to tell everyone that he loves me best,” Callie said softly. “I would like for him to…to shout it from the rooftops that I am his and he wants no one else.”
At that Will had to laugh. The idea of proud Talis sitting on top of a roof like a rooster and crowing that he loved Callie was not something he could imagine. No, Talis’s idea of love was to allow Callie to serve him hot gooseberry tarts under a shade tree.
And until now that had been enough for Callie.
“You ask for much,” Will said, “but I will see what I can do.” There was not much hope in his voice.
33
Interfering old man,” John was muttering, flinging objects on the table about. “I have had him escorted off my land! I have given orders that he is never to be allowed to return. If he comes back I’ll have him hanged.”
Hugh knew better than to make any comment at this point. John was in a rage because his beloved Talis had nearly fallen to pieces yesterday at the sight of an old, stooped man wearing the rough clothes of a farmer. In the midst of riding at the quintain, Talis had leaped from his horse and run to the man, flinging his arms about him as though he were still three years old.
John, who more than anything else in the world wanted Talis’s love, had nearly choked on his jealousy. He had immediately called Talis back to him, meaning to reprimand him, but Talis hadn’t so much as heard his call as he repeatedly kissed the old man’s cheeks. It was the old man who’d pointed out to Talis that he was being summoned.
To John’s further distress, Talis had presented the old man to John as though the man were visiting royalty. John’s face had turned purple with outrage and he’d ordered Talis to return to his training.
“But I must to see to my father’s welfare,” Talis said calmly. “He has come a long way to see me and he is tired and hungry.”
“I am your father,” John shouted.
“Oh, yes sir,” Talis said. “I did not mean…”
“Go on with your training,” Will said. “I will wait.”
“No,” Talis said firmly, “a knight must take care of those he loves. You will excuse me, sir,” he said to John, “while I take my fa—While I see to my visitor.” With that Talis had walked away with his arm protectively, lovingly, around the broad, stooped shoulders of the old man.
John had watched them go, his body so full of anger that Hugh had feared for his life. When Talis did not return that afternoon, John went in search of him and found him ensconced in the garden with the old man, their heads together, talking as Talis had never talked with John.
“I am his father,” John was now raging to Hugh. “Does the boy not know that? Does he not understand that he is to come to me with his problems?”
Hugh peeled an apple with a silver-handled knife. John Hadley was the last man anyone would want to tell an intimate problem to. John had the heavy-handed approach to life that a butcher had with a carcass of beef. “The boy misses the girl,” he said at last.
“What girl?” John asked. “Why does everyone talk of Talis and a girl? Perhaps you and my wife see something that no one else does.”
At the mention of Lady Alida, Hugh nicked his thumb. He did not like the woman; he found her cold and heartless. Perhaps she had not always been so, but she was now. And he had no doubt that if there was any trouble brewing, she was the cause of it. Also, Hugh could see that John was lying. There was more going on here than people were telling. In fact, lately, the whole house seemed to be full of secrets. Lady Alida riding off at breakneck speed to heaven-only-knows-where; that little nothing, Edith, suddenly acting as though she had a secret that was going to change the world.
And that poor girl Callie sent off to tend a garden of poisonous plants and tolerate that vain rooster, Allen Frobisher.
But the worst of it all was Talis. Hugh thought back to a few months ago when he had first seen Talis, on that day when the boy had saved John’s life. On that day when Talis had thrown that girl into the air and caught her, Hugh knew he had never seen anything as perfectly instinctive and genuine as the united movement of those two. The two of them had moved as one person.
On that day Talis had been glorious. Hugh had never seen any young man who stood straighter, had carried himself with as much pride as Talis had. When John had declared the boy as his son, Hugh had wanted to fight him for that honor. Talis was a son any man would want to have.
But now, mere months later, Talis had lost weight, his eyes were dark and hollow from lack of sleep and his energy seemed to have disappeared. He ate little and, according to Philip, he slept less.
Had he been another lad, Hugh would have thought Talis was lovesick, but what was ailing Talis was more than love.
This morning, in a jealous rage, John had sent from his house the old farmer who’d raised Talis. John couldn’t bear to see anyone receive the affection of Talis, couldn’t bear anyone receiving what he did not. Talis was always respectful of John, but he did not throw his arms around him and repeatedly kiss his cheeks.
It had taken Hugh three hours on horseback to find the old man, driving a heavy farm wagon loaded with bags of grain. Even after finding him, it had taken Hugh quite a while to persuade him that he meant only good for Talis.
The old man, Will Watkins, had said that Talis was very unhappy, that he was unhappy because he could not be with Callie. But Talis would not tell Will why he could not be with Callie. “Something to do with ‘vows to God,’ was what he said.” Then Will lowered his voice and his face changed to anger. “More like vows to her, if you ask me.�
�
Although Will did not say who “she” was, Hugh knew.
On his way back to Hadley Hall, Hugh wondered why Lady Alida had interfered between young love. What did it matter to her if two sweet children like Talis and Callie got together? Was she so bitter over her own loveless life that she could not bear for others to be happy?
So now Hugh was faced with John’s shouting and jealousy that the boy loved the man who’d raised him more than he loved John, who Talis had known for mere weeks.
“I believe,” Hugh said nonchalantly, “that the boy is in love. Perhaps you should give him permission to marry the girl.” Hugh acted as though he weren’t watching John’s face, but he was. He had many suspicions about the birth of Callie and Talis.
“I, ah, I cannot…I mean, I think he is too young to marry. And that girl is not right for him.”
Or, Hugh thought, you are afraid the boy’s true father will come to claim him and you fear to have to pay him to keep the boy. No wonder Talis gave kisses to that old farmer and not to John, who couldn’t quite decide whether he loved money or a person more.
But Hugh knew one thing he had in common with John: They both hated clever, manipulative women. Hugh had no idea what Lady Alida was up to, or what she was after, but he was sure she was doing something she should not be doing.
“I think someone has told Talis it is dishonorable to so much as speak to this girl Callie. I think he believes he will forfeit his place in your life if he talks to her.”
“How could he think that? I do not care if he impregnates the girl. What matter is it to me if he is…If he is…”
“Happy?” Hugh asked, knowing that John hated sentimentality and he’d never before concerned himself with the happiness or unhappiness of anyone except himself. But life in this big house seemed to go better when Talis was happy.
“I shall order the girl to sit near him, watch him all day if he wants,” John said. All he wanted was his son near him and not to lose any money.
“I think that an angry, sullen girl hissing at him from the sidelines is not the answer.”
“She would not dare!” John said. “I will have her head!”
Which will, of course, solve everything, Hugh thought sarcastically. “Someone has been very clever in making Talis believe that he cannot so much as go near the girl, but I think, sir, that you are far more clever.”
“Yes, of course,” John said, then looked expectantly at Hugh. They had been together a long time and he didn’t feel like playing guessing games to find out what Hugh had in mind.
“Tell Talis that the girl’s beauty is causing havoc among the young men and you need her protected from them and you want Talis to do the job. He is to keep her near him and watch that no other men touch her.”
All John could do was blink at Hugh. “Beauty? Why, the girl is as pale as a fish’s belly. I cannot tell her from half of my other daugh—er, ah, half of the other girls around here.”
Hugh forced himself not to smile, for he’d just found out the answers to many of his questions. Talis was not John Hadley’s son, just as he’d suspected. “Talis does not know the girl is not beautiful. To him she is glorious.”
“I would be making a fool of myself if I were to say such to him,” John said. “The boy will laugh at me.”
“No, the boy will not laugh at you.” Hugh’s eyes lit up. “I will give you my best charger if I am wrong,” he said, speaking of a big roan horse he had bought two years back and John had always coveted.
“You have yourself a wager,” John said smugly.
“And what do I get if I am right?” Hugh asked, eyes twinkling, but when John raised one eyebrow, Hugh stepped back. “It is, of course, my privilege to serve you.” And with that, he turned away, thinking on why John Hadley did not have the loyalty or love of anyone.
34
No thank you,” Callie said to Talis with all the haughtiness she could muster. “I would rather go with Allen.”
The three of them were at a fair in the village, the usually placid streets now alive with merchants and acrobats and the cries of hawkers. People, rich and poor, were everywhere.
“I am to protect you,” Talis said, his back so rigid an oak tree was soft by comparison. “Lord John has told me I must protect you.”
“From what?” Callie snapped at him. “From unwanted boys like yourself?”
At that Allen perked up, straightening himself to stand taller. He was at least two years older than Talis, and he’d certainly had more experience with women than this young man. “Come, Callasandra,” he said, taking her arm.
“Do not call her that,” Talis said, pushing Allen’s arm away from her. “In fact, do not call her anything at all. Callie, you must come with me.”
She glared up at Talis. “I do not have to go with you now or ever. Come, Allen, we must go.”
Feeling that he was winning—and surely his extraordinary good looks were doing the job—Allen again took Callie’s arm.
“Unhand her!” Talis half shouted, causing some interest in the people near them.
Callie moved so Talis could not touch Allen’s arm, but she pulled away from the blond man as she confronted Talis. “You do not own me. You are not my father nor my brother. In fact, you are nothing at all to me. Nothing. You have no right to tell me to do anything. Now go away and leave us.”
With a great sweep of her skirts, Callie clutched Allen’s arm and started to walk away from Talis.
For a long moment, Talis stood where he was, staring after them, rage filling him. How dare she! he thought. How could she treat him like this? Especially after all he had been through to get them together? He had been doing everything Lady Alida had asked of him, having to put up with a bunch of mindless, giggling girls who wouldn’t let him train, wouldn’t let him study, but just demanded that he carry things for them. “This needle is awfully heavy,” one of them had said, then rolled her eyes at Talis in a way that he was sure was supposed to entice him.
All Talis yearned for were the days when he and Callie were together, the days when he didn’t have to be so damned polite all the time. With Callie he could be quiet if he wanted or talk for hours if he wanted. And, best of all, he didn’t have to wait on her, fetch for her, carry things for her, do a lot of really stupid things those overdressed peahens seemed to need from him.
Now, what he ought to do, he thought, was disobey Lord John’s orders and leave her here alone. If men made asses of themselves over her because of her…of her, well, because she was, in his opinion, by far the most beautiful creature in the world, then it was not his problem. Let that thin, no-shouldered, white-faced boy she was hanging onto take care of her.
But even as Talis thought this, he followed the two of them.
“Oh, Allen, how very clever of you,” Callie said, throwing back her head and laughing, her hair catching on her belt.
“Allow me,” Allen said, his hands going eagerly to Callie’s abundance of hair to untangle it.
But Talis was there first, his dagger drawn as though he meant to hack Allen’s hand off if he so much as touched Callie’s hair.
But Callie knew what he had in mind. “You touch my hair and you’ll be sorry,” she snapped at him.
“Why did you have to leave it uncovered? Why did you not shove it under a cap?”
She smiled at him. “Do you mind that other men see my hair?”
He stiffened. “It is only that it catches on everything and is a great nuisance. It is a wonder the birds do not start nesting in it.” Talis thought that was a very clever remark, but from the look on Callie’s red face, she did not think it was at all clever.
“Allen likes my hair,” she spat at him. “In fact, all the men like my hair. They like it very much.”
“I did not say I did not like your hair,” he said, blinking in wonder. What was wrong with her? He had teased her all his life. Why was now any different?
“Go away!” she ordered him. “Do you not understand that I do
not want you near me? Go find some other woman to bother.”
As he watched her walking away from him, Talis could feel anger running through him. He had done everything in the world to be with her, to show her that she was his very existence, but now all she seemed to want was this thin half-man, Frobisher.
Determinedly, he walked behind the two of them, and when they stopped at a booth of fruit pies, he leaned against the stall and looked straight ahead, as though he just happened to be there.
“Oh, yes, Allen,” Callie said loud enough to be heard half a mile away, “I would love an apple pie. They are my very favorite. Thank you so much. You are a kind and thoughtful man and you know so very well how to treat a woman.”
Allen was flushing with her praise as he held out a copper coin to pay the merchant for the two apple pies.
But Talis’s big hand stopped him. “She likes peach pies better. In fact, she thinks apple pies are boring, unless they are coated with a great deal of cinnamon and I can tell by the smell that these are not. If you really want to please her, get her a peach pie, or apricot. But don’t get the blackberry as the seeds get into her teeth, and, too, she is a very messy eater so she will get the black juice all over her gown. All in all, you had better get her peach.”
“I, ah…ah…” Allen sputtered.
Callie glared up at Talis, who wouldn’t look at her. “I have changed my mind. I don’t really want any pies. Come, Allen, let us see the acrobats.”
“There is a bear here to be baited,” Allen said hesitantly. “Perhaps you’d like to see the dogs tear at the bear. It is great sport.”
“She would hate that,” Talis said, pointedly looking down over Allen’s head, showing that he was at least four inches taller than the blond man.
“I would love that,” Callie said through clenched teeth. “I have changed in the many, many months since I have seen you.” She made “you” sound like something that grew in her Poison Garden.