Jane Feather - Charade by Unknown (howl and other poems .TXT) 📕

do not think he cares for the idea of Lady Philippa."

"Ah," Justin said with total comprehension. "But he has not yet met hissister, so perhaps we can forestall the prejudice." He smiled—a smilethat Maddy returned in full.

"Is My Lady well, sir?"

"Very well, thank you. And Lady Philippa is every bit as vociferous asher brother, four hours into the world."

Justin left the nursery and went in pursuit of the errant Nicky.

Four shire horses stood in the stableyard, tethered alongside eachother, waiting to be shod. This breed was the pride of every farmerwith their rippling shoulders, powerful hocks, necks that could takethe strain of any dray, plough or cart, and Nicholas, ViscountBeresford, was fascinated by them. They came rarely into the stableyardand he awaited their arrival with an enthusiasm that far exceeded thenews of a baby sister.

Linton saw a pair of sturdy legs in nankeen britches disappear beneaththe belly of the first shire horse.

"Nicky?" he called, reaching the horse and laying a reassuring hand onthe powerful rear. The animal's skin rippled in confirmation of thetouch and Nicky, three horses away, contemplated an escape route in thehay bales stacked the other side of the yard.

"Nicholas!"

The child stood beneath the belly of the fourth horse. Experience hadtaught him that that note in his father's voice boded ill for furtherprocrastination. With a resigned sigh, he made his way back through theliving tunnel of heaving chests and bellies and huge hooves that withone kick could smash his fragile bones to pulp, and popped up atJustin's feet.

"Bonjour,

papa."

"Good morning, little ragamuffin." His father returned the greetingwith an exasperated shake of the head. "You are quite repulsivelydirty, child. Were you not told to stay in the nursery until I came foryou?"

Nicholas said nothing, but examined his boots with a studious air.

"Mmm," Justin murmured, with a twitch of his lips. "Well, since todayis your sister's birthday, I will grant you a dispensation. But youcannot make her acquaintance as dirty as you are. Let us go back to

the nursery and clean you up."

"Don't want a sister," Nicky muttered, trotting beside Justin.

"Oh." His father's long stride shortened. "Would you have preferred abrother?"

"No," Nicky said definitely. "Don't want eiver of 'em."

Justin swung him into his arms, brushing back the fair curls from thechild's brow. "It's a little late to do anything about that, my son.But I feel certain you will become accustomed to the idea eventually."

Justin waited in the nursery while Nicholas was washed and brushed.Danielle, of course, wouldn't notice whether he was grubby or not.

She was sitting up in bed, looking pale but incredibly fresh after herordeal of the night. Lady Philippa, after her own ordeal, slept in thecrook of her mother's arm.

"Where'd she come from?" Nicholas demanded, climbing onto the bed.

Danielle exchanged a look with her husband. "Nicky, love, I told you.She was growing in my stomach."

"Well, why can't she go back? She's all red and crinkly."

"So were you when you were just born, like Philippa." Justin sat on thebed and took his daughter so that Danielle could hold her son whosettled against her breast, sucking his thumb, a dreamy look in hisdark eyes.

She was twenty-two now, Justin mused in the quiet sun-filled room, butthe events of the last five years seemed to have wrought little changeon the heart-shaped face or in the eyes that were still as full ofcuriosity as ever. They had been five years marked with blood,violence, and terror and Danielle had experienced all three, side byside with her country struggling to free itself from the chrysalis ofthe past

as she also fought to escape her own.

"What are you thinking, my love?" she asked with a soft smile.

"Of the last five years," he answered. "Of the day I first met you." Hechuckled. "I do not think you are so very different now from thatscrubby brat."

"Now that is not kind in you," Danielle protested. "I am a respectablematron with two children."

Justin shuddered. "You must promise me never to become a matron! If youmust become respectable, then I daresay I shall adapt, but matronlynever!"

"I do not suppose we shall have any further adventures," Danielle saidwith a mournful sigh. "I think I shall miss them, Justin."

He gave a shout of laughter. "You see you are not at all respectable,my brat. Well, I regret to inform you that I have had enoughadventuring to last for a lifetime and since I shall not permit you tohave any without me, you must accustom yourself to the idea that youwill no longer go adventuring."

"Quite so," she murmured. "As you command, my lord." Her eyes werelowered with the submissive docility that always set off every alarmbell in his head.

"Little devil," he said and, ignoring the presence of his children,kissed her soundly. "I do not think I will ever be able to manage you."It was said with a degree of satisfaction with which, judging byDanielle's fervent response to his kiss, she heartily concurred.

The same August sun that bathed the four members of the house of Lintonshone that day on the Assembly in Paris as a city, sickened by blood,called a halt to the Terror and the great cry went up:

"Justice pourtout le monde."

It was a cry from the heart of France, the crythatbegan the revolution

and opened the door for the butterfly of the future.