The Sherbrooke Bride - Catherine Coulter [69]
Her sister-in-law had called her Sinjun, and without hesitation. Sinjun smiled. “I am only fifteen so I don’t perfectly understand what has happened. But I agree with you. Humiliation is not a good thing. Are you certain Douglas would humiliate you in that way? I cannot see him doing it. He isn’t a cruel man.”
“He wouldn’t be to you.”
Sinjun just shook her head. “Douglas took a birch rod to my bottom last year. He thought I deserved it but, of course, I heartily disagreed. I don’t even remember what I did. Isn’t that odd? Listen now, I cannot leave you alone. I fully intend to go with you. May I call you Alexandra? Perhaps even Alex? It is a man’s nickname, just like mine. Do you have any money? We will need money, you know.”
Alexandra stared at the young girl with frustrated awe. The Sherbrookes were a family beyond her comprehension and experience. She found herself nodding. She’d heard of tidal waves, but she’d never before imagined that she could experience the effects of one and not be close to the sea.
“Good, because Mother never gives me any money at all, except at Christmas, and even then I must account for every shilling, every penny, even to what I paid for her present. And she always criticizes my choices. Why, last Christmas, I hand-sewed a half-dozen handkerchiefs for Douglas and she said the linen had cost too dear and that my stitches were crooked and they should be tossed away. Of course Douglas didn’t throw them away. He said he liked them. He uses them. It was humiliating now that I think on it. Perhaps I can understand just a little bit. I would like to be treated like a reasonable person, not patted on the head like a silly pug.”
“Yes,” said Alexandra.
Sinjun rubbed her hands together. “I am taller than you and much larger so I doubt I can wear any of the clothes in your valise, but perhaps we can buy me something else to wear on our way to your home. How far must we go? Several days away, I hope. I long for some adventure. Yes, it will be great fun, you’ll see. Perhaps we’ll even meet some highwaymen. How vastly romantic that will be! Don’t you agree?”
It was then that Alexandra began to realize that she’d been firmly trapped and netted and by a guileless fifteen-year-old girl.
“I do so love to walk and enjoy nature,” Sinjun continued, taking a skip. “I also know a number of quite interesting stories and that will pass the time. If I bore you, why then, you must tell me and I will be quiet.”
Alexandra, overwhelmed, bewildered, and routed, could only nod.
“Douglas merely tells me to shut my trap, as does Ryder. Tysen—he plans to be a vicar—he wants to say the same things but he fears the fires of hell if he did say what he truly wanted to. His perceived path of rectitude is sometimes extremely annoying, but Douglas says we must be patient because Tysen is young and not yet thinking clearly. He says his belfry is still filled with nonsense. Tysen also fancies himself in love with a twit who makes me cringe she is so appallingly good and priggishly proper. Ryder just laughs at Tysen and says she has two names—Melinda Beatrice!—which is nauseating, and she simpers and has no bosom.”
Alexandra gave it up. She eyed the sweet-faced very enthusiastic girl beside her. She turned and waved toward John Coachman.
“What are you doing, Alexandra?”
“Going home,” she said. “We’re going home.”
“Oh dear, no adventure then. How disappointing. Perhaps someday in the future you and I can go seashell collecting. That’s good sport. Come along then, let me