“It’s the handsome ones,” Evelyn said, nodding even as she patted Alice’s thin hand. “Aye, the handsome ones who believe they’re entitled to any woman and of course any woman would want them because they’re handsome and that’s that. Fools, the mangy fools. Now, don’t you worry, Alice, Miss Caroline will take care of things.”
Yes, she would, she thought. She would hit it head-on. She smiled brightly at the three of them and said, “My cousin Owen Ffalkes does live here and he’s very nice. My other cousin, Bennett Penrose, lives here also. He’s the handsome one, and to be honest, he isn’t very nice. However, I will speak to him. I won’t allow you ever to wonder if you’ll be safe here. None of you are to worry.”
Evelyn laughed, a big hearty laugh, then patted her protruding belly. “Even a randy young man won’t be interested in us until after we birth the babes. Take heart, Alice, no one will try to hurt you here. If afterward one of them tries it, I’ll skewer him in the belly, maybe take a nip off the end of his little rod.” She leaned down and pulled up her skirt to show the small knife strapped to her calf. “No more will I be helpless around one of them, er, those wretched snakes.”
“Good idea,” said Caroline. “I should have one. Thank you, Evelyn.”
“I don’t want to be helpless either,” Alice said, then gasped. “I’m just so afraid.”
“You’re also a babe yourself,” Miss Mary Patricia said, patting Alice’s hand. “No wonder you’re afraid. Nothing bad will ever happen to any of us again, will it, Miss Caroline?”
“No,” Caroline said, “it won’t, not if I can help it anyway.” She thought about their arrival in the vicar’s small gig, nearly all piled on top of one another, and that damned vicar had treated them like the dregs in his teacup, as if their being with child was all their fault.
He tried to protest their staying here at Scrilady Hall, with naught but a young girl to look after them, but she’d cut him off quickly, saying, “They will be happy here, I’ll see to it.”
“They don’t deserve to be happy! You and your aunt, both of you looking at things the wrong way and—”
“Pray, what is the right way to look at this, vicar?”
“They were cast out. They should remain cast out. They sinned and were caught and have shamed all womankind and—”
Caroline had seen Alice’s face then, all pale and drawn, and she was flinching as if the vicar’s horrid words were actual blows. As for Evelyn, she had blood in her eye, her fists clenched at her sides. Miss Mary Patricia had her chin high in the air, holding herself aloof and apart, or at least trying to. Caroline had said quickly, “You will leave, Mr. Plumberry. Don’t bother to return else I might shoot you.”
“You’re overwrought,” said the vicar, taking a step toward her, his hand outstretched. “You poor child, you don’t know what you’re saying. All this grief, all this unexpected pressure, your dear aunt shouldn’t have thrown this all at you, and—”
“Good-bye, vicar. Go away.”
He’d left, but she knew he believed her nearly hysterical, just a weak woman unable to see the truth of things when they stared her in the face. She’d turned back to the three very pregnant females and said, “Welcome to Scrilady Hall. My name is Caroline Derwent-Jones. You are truly welcome here. Everything will be all right, I promise you.”
But she wondered now how she’d be able to keep her promise. Alice looked less ill than she had, but there was such fear, such wariness in her pale blue eyes that it made Caroline want to howl at the unfairness of life. She’d been set upon by three young bloods near St. Ives and they’d raped her, all of them. As for Evelyn, she had a good deal of bravado, but she did have the sense to strap that knife to her calf. Smart girl. As for Miss Mary Patricia, she looked as calm as a nun at her morning prayers, but if Caroline looked closely enough, she could see the slight tremor in her white hands.
Caroline said now, “I think Evelyn’s very smart. All women are vulnerable because we’re weaker then most men. Unfortunately some men are vicious and have no honor. I myself was nearly raped by such a man, so I do understand something of what happened to you. I will have all of us fitted with knives. All right?”
Alice began to cry, her thin shoulders jerking.
Evelyn turned to her and said gently as she took her into her arms, “Hush now, my baby, hush. Miss Caroline will see that everything works out for you.”
Miss Mary Patricia said thoughtfully, “I think I would prefer a gun. Do they make them small now, do you know, Miss Caroline?”
Caroline didn’t hesitate. It was a brilliant idea. “Yes, they do. I can even have a small strap made for it to fasten to your leg. Is that what you wish?”
“Yes, thank you. Now, Alice,” she continued in a matter-of-fact voice, “it’s time for lessons. You and Evelyn have learned to speak very nicely, but there’s still the reading, and you won’t want to be ignorant girls, will you?”
“No, Miss Mary Patricia,” Alice said, and heaved herself out of her chair.
“Can we read more of that
spicy story written by that Mr. Voltaire fellow?”
“Certainly,” said Miss Mary Patricia, rising gracefully to her feet. She said to Caroline, “Evelyn loves Candide.”
Caroline rose as well. “I like it too. Now, let me get Mrs. Trebaw and we’ll all go to your rooms. I hope you like them.”
Miss Mary Patricia said, “It’ll be better than the cramped single room we all shared in the vicar’s attic after Miss Eleanor died and he insisted that the cottage be closed down. He said there was no reason to waste money on the likes of us.”
“The vicar did that?” Caroline said. At their nods, she felt a lovely wash of anger. “I’ll get him for that.”
“I don’t know if you need a knife,” Evelyn said, and grinned impudently.