Plain and Proper, M J Marlow [best desktop ebook reader .TXT] 📗

now, I would learn about you and your family.”
Marianne watched the man charm the Vicar and his wife completely. Even the boys, usually her devoted admirers were hanging on his every word. So charm was a family trait, she sighed. She was going to have to be on her toes around her handsome uncle or she might find herself being shipped off to a convent somewhere. They went in to tea and Marianne did manage to spill something, but it was not on Andrew. Her tea landed in the Vicar’s lap and she was flustered as she tried to wipe it off of his coat.
“That is enough, young lady,” Andrew snapped at her. He rang for the Butler. “Dawson, the Vicar has had an accident with the tea. Kindly have Murphy assist him with his garments.” The Vicar dealt with, he turned to his niece. She looked so upset that he almost didn’t have the heart to correct her. But that was his role now, so he rose to his feet and beckoned her to follow him. He didn’t speak as word as she went to sit in the chair by the desk in the Study. He closed the door and turned.
“Uncle, please…”
“There is no excuse you can give,” Andrew said tightly, “that will justify your dumping your tea on the Vicar, Marianne.” She clamped her jaw tight and looked quite prepared to argue with him. “Although I was quite prepared to do it myself when he spoke so thoughtlessly about the French.” She looked at him in shock and then gratitude. “I am going to have to appear to punish you, Marianne. Ready?”
“Do your worst,” Marianne sighed.
“Marianne!” He opened the door and his voice became quite haughty. “No niece of mine should be so clumsy and graceless,” he said loud enough so everyone could hear him. “In the morning, you will go to the Vicar and apologize. You will offer to pay for the cleaning of his garments and ask him to impose a penance on you.” He raised his hand as she started to argue for real and she hung her head. She sat there with her hands folded and looked truly sorry. He was not fooled for even one second; he knew that she would do it again if she had the chance. “Since you do not know how to behave in polite company, you will go to your rooms and remain there the rest of the night.” He said the next bit so only she could hear. “I’ll have Eustacia ask Cook to send some tea and sweets up on a tray after the odious little man has left.” He saw the Vicar coming down the stairs now. “Upstairs, young lady. Now!”
Marianne went upstairs with her head down in shame and the Vicar looked at her in shock. Then he turned to nod approvingly at Andrew. “It was time she had a firm hand in her life. The baroness is far too lenient with the girl.” His frown grew even darker. “Any man who marries her will need the patience of the saints and a whip.”
“Your sons appear quite fond of her,” Andrew suggested, unable to prevent the imp in him from rising. He had the distinct pleasure of seeing the man turn white.
“My sons,” he said after he recovered, “will marry fine, well-mannered young women who know how to behave properly.”
“How boring,” Gerard spoke up from where he stood leaning on the doorframe. The men looked at him for some explanation. “I find my fiancé quite a refreshing change from insipid and useless females.” He looked at Andrew tightly; angry at the way his superior had spoken to the girl. “If you will excuse me, ‘sir’, I will go check on the men before we leave.”
The other men returned to the sitting room to finish their tea and Andrew’s look warned Eustacia not to interfere. The rest of the tea was deadly dull after that. When the Vicar and his family finally left, Andrew looked at his sister-in-law with newfound respect. “How do you stand that man? He is the most officious little toad I have ever met. Imagine him thinking she should be whipped!” He shook his head. “I told Marianne you would intervene with Cook against my wishes and send some tea and sweets up to her.”
Eustacia smiled and nodded. “She is a darling child if a bit quick tempered.”
Andrew nodded absently and went back to his work. He had another hour or two in which he could go over the barony accounts. He had to admit that Eustacia’s man of business knew what he was doing .The barony was a thriving concern. When Eustacia finally died, Marianne, as her only heir, would inherit well over 500,000 pounds in property and coin. Half the ton would be falling at her feet panting after her property; the other half would be falling at her feet in adoration. He was grateful to Gerard for sparing him from that nightmare and chuckled as he remembered how the girl had spilled her tea accidentally, and quite on purpose, on the Vicar’s suit.


Marianne was pacing the floor of her room trying to remain angry at her uncle. He was such a contradiction, she thought. Playing the heavy-handed guardian to the full, he had chastised her so that everyone knew he was not pleased with her manner. The Vicar had left feeling vindicated and Marianne knew that was how Andrew wanted it. She smiled as she saw the remains of the tea that had been delivered to her a half hour ago. The servant was quite full of how her ‘aunt’ had defied her uncle and insisted that Cook send tea up to her rooms. The piece of cobbler was extra large and had an extra helping of ice cream on top. It had been quite delicious and the fact that she did not have to hide her appetite from the Vicar made it doubly enjoyable. He always frowned at seeing her eating as she did. She went out on the balcony and relished the feel of the air on her face.
“You should come in, niece,” Andrew said softly. “My men should not be distracted from their duties by the sight of a pretty girl.”
“I’m not pretty,” Marianne argued as she did as he asked. “I am really quite plain, truth be told.” She went to her mirror and frowned at her reflection. “I should have golden hair that shimmers like sunlight.” She dropped her braid. “Instead I have rust colored hair that refuses to stay put.” She pulled at the ribbons that had managed to work their way completely free in irritation and sat down. “Mama was quite beautiful.”
“Your Mama was too beautiful,” Andrew replied. She looked at him in confusion. “It wasn’t bad enough she could wind every man around her little finger with just a look, as you apparently can,” he looked at her pointedly and saw her blush. “Her beauty kept people so befuddled she could have walked into the Tower and the guards would have handed her the crown jewels happily.”
“You loved my Mama.” Marianne saw it in the fond smile on his face, the way his eyes sparkled when he spoke of her.
“Of course I did,” Andrew looked at her as if she were an idiot for thinking anything differently; “she was my adored baby sister.” He saw the tray. “I see your aunt ‘disobeyed’ my explicit instructions and sent you tea.” He ruffled her hair and went to get it. “I’ll take this down with me. I’m in the mood for another piece of that cobbler.” He paused at the door and smiled back at her. “As to your hair?” Marianne nodded. “It is the loveliest shade of chestnut I have ever seen in my life.” He saw her look of shock and then gratitude. “Be happy with what you’ve been given, Marianne. On you, blonde would be false advertising, you little imp.”
“Thank you, Uncle,” Marianne smiled at him happily and turned back to view herself with less jaundiced eyes.
“Wear something red tonight, Imp,” Andrew smiled back at her. “The platoon will be going in uniform to this little welcome party.” He shook his head as he left her playing with hairstyles and went downstairs. He ran into Dominique as the woman was pouring herself some milk. “Good afternoon, Madame Bouchard.”
“Lord Andrew,” Dominique nodded. “I was just getting some milk,” she held up the pitcher. “Would you care for some?”
“Don’t touch the stuff,” Andrew shuddered. He set the tray down and saw the Cook, a motherly-looking woman with gray hair and deep blue eyes, dressed in a gray dress with a white pinafore apron; looking quite uneasy. “In future,” he couldn’t resist the urge to tweak; “when I send the child up to her room without her tea, she won’t receive any trays in her room, will she?”
“No sir,” the Cook flushed and took the tray away with her even more determined to do whatever she could to circumvent his heavy-handedness.
“It doesn’t suit you, Andrew,” Dominique said softly. Andrew looked at her curiously and she smiled at him and laid her hand on his. “This stern and proper uncle routine? It does not suit you, at all. Anyone with eyes can see that you are amused by your niece’s antics.”
“Then I must work harder at my performance,” Andrew frowned. He got himself another piece of Cook’s excellent cobbler and a fork and sat down. For a few moments they sat in silence as he enjoyed the dessert. “Four years?” Dominique nodded. “However do you stand the girl? I’ve only been here one day and she’s driving me to drink.”
“You’ll get used to her,” Dominique laughed. “Marianne is really quite a sweet girl for all her high spirits. She wouldn’t deliberately hurt anyone, if she had a choice.” Andrew nodded encouragement and Dominique told him everything she had seen and heard since she had taken a position in this household. “And then she told him…”
“I can imagine what she told him” Andrew broke in, a half hour later. He had enjoyed this time. He now knew his little niece quite a deal better, and he had a deep respect for the child. He was even more determined to keep her safe than he had been before. He rose to his feet and took and settled the fork on the empty plate. “Madame Bouchard. This has been quite educational. I shall endeavor to take your insights to heart when I deal with that willful child.” He knew she was listening; he had heard her step on the stairs. “Who is listening to matters that might not concern her.” He sighed as she came out of hiding. “What is it now, Marianne?” He saw her white face and her shivering body and his manner shifted. He made her sit down and sent Madame Bouchard for some brandy. “What is it, child?” he asked more gently as he rubbed her cold hands. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I had the nightmare again,” Marianne told him plainly. “About Mama.” She burst into tears and leaned against him. Madame Bouchard arrived with the brandy and Marianne was made to take a sip. She made a face and set the glass aside. “What horrid stuff! However do people drink such foul-tasting stuff?”
“The nightmare, Marianne,” Andrew prodded gently as he put the glass in her hands and made her take sips of it. “You said ‘again’. You’ve had it before?”
“When I came to live here,” Marianne nodded. “I had it every night for weeks. Aunt Eustacia had the doctor give me sedatives so I could sleep through the night.” She set the cup aside. “I was in my