His beady eyes glittered as his mind ran away with his plans. "But the solicitors won't be able to object to you giving me a stipend. After all, you'll be married to Clifford, a wealthy man with an impressive array of lands and family heirlooms purported to be worth a pretty penny. As his wife you will have material goods, status and freedom."
Vanessa laughed bitterly. "What freedom? Most women are treated as china dolls or puppets. Once I'm wed, I am my husband's chattel, to do with as he will. You know yourself Joseph Marchant beat his wife to death for supposedly committing adultery with their steward, and never spent one day in jail."
"Then you shall have to control your desires. Or, if you can't, make certain you don't get caught," Gerald said casually.
Vanessa stared at him open-mouthed. She waited for a smile or mocking wink, but there was none. With dawning horror she realized he was in earnest.
"Gerald, those may be your morals, but they're not mine. I've been brought up by my aunt to be decent and God-fearing. I am no light-skirt, sir."
Gerald simply shrugged. "In that case, you need not worry about the wrath of your husband."
"Some husbands need no excuse for cruelty."
She began to pace in front of the empty hearth, wishing their stringent economies didn't have to include rarely having a fire. She rubbed her sore arm and wondered why she suddenly felt chilled to the bone.
A vague memory flashed in the back of her mind, a sudden impression of a woman in blue, with red spatters on it, and a green carpet...
Gerald waved his hand in front of her face. He smiled inwardly, now getting inspiration for his next gambit.
"While he may be a thief and a liar, and overly-fond of the company of ladies, Clifford has not got the reputation for being a complete scoundrel."
"I can't tell you how relieved I am to hear that," she said, her tone biting.
Gerald had all to do to restrain his smirk. "And in view of your own less than sterling reputation hereabouts, I would suggest that you act a bit more grateful, and seize this opportunity with both hands. After all, a woman in your position can't afford to be too particular, now can she?"
CHAPTER FOUR
Vanessa stiffened at the unspoken implications of what her half-brother had just said, and replied stiffly, "That was a long time ago, and--"
"Yes, I know my dear," Gerald said in his most sympathetic tone. "I am well aware that you were ill. A devastating bout of brain fever, no more. But people here in the country have long memories. So little to do with their time, don't you know. They gossip worse than in London."
Vanessa felt the familiar choking sensation of terror, the darkness encroaching once more. If only she could remember... "If I am to be gossiped about and only serve to make our family situation worse by returning here, then I shall go to London--"
"You can't run from yourself."
Vanessa reeled back as though she had been slapped. "I was only a child," she said again, more feebly, hating herself for the whine she heard in her tone.
Gerald had scored his points, and smiled in satisfaction. Rather than press his advantage with a heavy hand, he appealed to her better nature once more.
"Please, Sister, I'm begging you. This is a superb opportunity for both of us. Don't let me be cast out into the road like a pauper. Sign this paper stating you will marry him and discharge the debts upon this estate, and only those debts, and the rest of your fortune shall be yours. Plus Clifford's money and family home besides. And you will have a husband, when most likely you would never have secured one, no matter your wealth, once the old tabbies of the Ton got their claws into you and raked up your past."
She shook her head, both tempted and terrified. And feeling very much put upon by her sibling. "I can't just sign my entire life away without giving the matter far more thought. It's unreasonable for you to ask it. But then, all of your actions have been unreasonable. Certainly not those of an elder brother who should be introducing me into society and looking after my welfare. Not threatening me and practically twisting my arm off when I gainsay him."
Gerald colored at the accusation, though she had not uttered the words harshly. "I'm sorry. I didn't know my own strength. I beg your pardon for hurting your arm and tearing your frock. You have to believe that I'm trying to help you. In my own way I am being protective. It will be a good match for you, and you'll be free to pursue your, er, hobbies and um, eccentricities, which I understand are very important to you."
Vanessa groaned. Even without his reminder of her childhood difficulties and fears, she could feel the walls closing in on her. It was apparent from his words that though she had been there only a short time, the servants had already been gossiping about her studying and writing at all hours of the day and night. The servants at her aunt's house had thought her strange, indeed, even called her mad, just as they had done at Hawkesworth House after her mother and later her father had died.