The River of No Return by Bee Ridgway (best novels of all time txt) 📕

up his hands. “Of course not. Perish the thought that it might be possible to rescue Julia from the clutches of a madman. Shall I tell you? It is because he is a lord of the realm and his accusers are servants. And because she is a woman, with no rights of her own.” He rounded on Clare, pointing a finger at her nose. “I tell you, Clare, the world has got to change. You women must stop regarding yourselves as chattels.”

At that, Clare put back her hands on her hips and laughed. “Your bump on the head certainly changed you, Nickin. You accuse me of destroying Falcott for a dream of brotherhood and equality—meanwhile it appears that you have been transformed into a Godwinite!”

“Perhaps, I have been! And so should you be.”

Her laugh died, but her eyes smiled at him. “What happened to you in Spain?”

“Never you mind.” Nick crossed his arms over his chest. “Now explain yourself, woman.”

“A Godwinite, but still pigheaded! Of course I have been to visit the new earl, and to see Julia. Do you think I am heartless? She adored that crusty grandfather of hers, and she must be devastated without him. I arrived home from London the day after the old earl died, and I went immediately to Castle Dar. I was turned away, but I returned the next day and again the next. The other women of the parish have also tried to call. We left cards, we left invitations, we even went as a group and sought to be admitted. The men have gone, too. Although we could tell it pained good Pringle to do it, we were all repeatedly turned away.”

Nick glared at his sister, then strode away across the room and back again. “Talk, talk, talk,” he finally said. “Gossip and talk. The good people of the parish fret and worry: ‘Oh, poor Julia.’ Then, my dear sister, do you know what they do when they are home again? They tell vicious stories, and they relish every word. Did you know, Clare, that everyone thinks she is Darchester’s mistress? After only a fortnight?” He nodded at her. “Oh, yes. I suppose you are not privy to the more salacious rumors that fly about the village, due to your being . . .” He paused. “Due to . . .” He finished lamely.

Clare sat back down. “Due to the fact that I am a spinster, you mean? You have ranted like a lunatic for ten minutes, and now you choose to mince words? I am a spinster and a noblewoman. As a result, no one ever tells me anything. Why don’t you come down off your high horse, take a seat, and let us have a rational conversation about this problem. I am indeed appalled to learn that our neighbors think so badly of Julia, and I am ashamed that I have not done more to try to see her and find out the truth of her situation. But let us not lose our heads. Tell me what you know, and together we shall find a way to secure Julia’s freedom.”

Nick glowered.

She patted the seat next to her and raised her eyebrows at him in the time-honored gesture of an older sister. “Sit,” she said.

“As you wish.” He collapsed down next to her, draped one arm around her shoulders, and stretched his legs out. He tried, unconsciously, to shove one sneaker off his foot with the toe of the other, and looked in some surprise down the length of his body, past his jacket and breeches to his tall riding boots. “I am in all my dirt,” he said, remembering suddenly that he really ought to change out of his riding clothes before conversing with a lady, even if that lady happened to be his sister.

“Yes, you are a barbarian,” Clare said. “Now tell me.”

Nick let his head fall back against the sofa. He spoke up to the ceiling. “I rode to the wood, and encountered Julia riding over from Castle Dar,” he said.

“I thought she was a prisoner.”

“She is, to all intents.”

Clare sighed. “I don’t mean to doubt you, Nick, but are you certain she is in such dire straits as you imagine? After all, she was riding about. When did you even have the chance to hear village gossip? You returned only the day before yesterday.”

“Count Lebedev overheard the news of Julia’s supposed disgrace bantered about the inn yard, of all places. And I know Julia is in danger because she told me she was, and I believe her.”

Clare nodded. “Julia is a dramatic little body,” she said, “but she is not a liar.”

“What do you mean, a dramatic little body?” Nick sat up straight and swiveled to face his sister.

“Oh, nothing. But when Julia was younger, she and Bella were forever brewing up mischief of one kind or another. You must remember, Nickin. She was always over here, underfoot. They did terrible things.”

Nick did have a vague memory of his little sister and her friend charging up and down the staircases, yodeling like beagles, but he had hardly been interested in girls three years his junior. “How terrible could two little girls be?”

Clare laughed incredulously. “I will not even deign to answer that question. Except to remind you of the time, a few years before Papa’s death, when they let the pigs into the kitchen garden. Arabella did not care for carrots and they thought to ruin the year’s crop.”

A memory floated back to him of little Bella at teatime, the rest of the family feasting on her favorite cake while she sat weeping, with nothing but a big carrot on her plate. “Julia was behind that prank?”

“Oh, I don’t know whose idea it was, but she was certainly caught red-handed alongside Bella, exhorting the pigs to root up the gardeners’ hard work. Of course the poor animals were simply running wild all over the garden, trying to escape two screaming girls.”

“Papa must have been enraged.”

“I’m surprised they both survived into adulthood,” Clare