Free In Pursuit of the Green Lion by Judith Merkle Riley Page B

on the estate to pay the lawyers, and if I can’t defend your lands they’ll be shorn away until there’s nothing left but a mass of debt. You don’t want to live here forever, do you?”
    I shook my head silently, and he went on. “I’m not a rich merchant like Master Kendall, you know, and we haven’t a hope of supporting the London house you care for so much unless money is coming in from somewhere. The only hope I have for bringing in that much is in the field—or with the rents of his manors, if we can keep them in the family. But I know your heart is set on keeping that house, and I intend to try for your sake. You ought to know what Father thinks of town houses. Even less than he does of men who can’t hold on to inheritances. He’d have sold it a dozen times over if I hadn’t fought him every step of the way.”
    “Oh, who’d have thought it. Master Kendall never had all these problems with his manors. He just bought them and there they were. I never thought it would be so hard for you.”
    Gregory sat down on the opposite window seat. “Humph. There’s a cold spot here,” he said, getting up quickly and reseating himself next to me. “Did you notice that?” he added. “It’s very odd. It made the back of my neck prickle.” Who’d have thought the Cold Thing was still hanging about? Well, this wasn’t the time to tell him about it, not with all the worries he already had.
    “Margaret,” he said, taking my hand. “I’m sorry I haven’t been able to do it all for you as well as Master Kendall did. But he was a man with influence at court and half the world, to whom he’d doubtless loaned money. But the Earl thinks your lands have fallen to a little family, without influence, and that he can bully us out of what the law says is ours. You can’t believe how wrathy he’s made Father! He even sent Father’s messenger back with a rude letter about it, and kept his horse in the bargain. I tell you, I’ve never seen Father on such a rampage. He won’t rest until he’s got his own back.”
    “Why didn’t he tell me, instead of being so horrible?”
    “Tell a woman? That’s not his way. He’ll be angry even if he finds out that I told you. ‘The more women know, the more trouble they can make’ is what he always says.”
    “Trouble? When have I made trouble for him? It’s him that’s made trouble for me. He storms about, and says rude things, and beats on my children! He’s never been anything but trouble!”
    “Margaret,” said Gregory firmly, “you should be grateful for what Father’s done for you.”
    “Grateful? I knew he was horrid the minute I first set eyes on him!” I could feel the Cold Thing stirring.
    “Don’t you speak against my father!” Gregory stood up suddenly. “Just because I can’t stand him doesn’t mean you can say things about him! Besides, the whole thing’s your fault anyway!”
    I could feel myself getting angry. After all I’d put up with, and all I’d done, and all I’d waited, I had to hear this.
    “My fault? My fault? So now it’s my fault, is it? What makes it my fault, pray tell?” I could see him shudder briefly and shift places—he’d gone and stepped directly into the middle of the Cold Thing.
    Then he waved his hands in the air as he said, “So tell me, when did I ever have troubles like this before I married you? Stupid lands! Stupid houses! Stupid furniture! Everything I owned could be carried in one bundle, and I was free! Free of Father, free of Hugo’s envy, free of lawyers, free of petitions and testimony, free of stewards and bailiffs, and free of brats! It’s women who do this to men, and it’s all your fault!” Gregory had turned all red and taken on an increasingly injured look as he worked his self-pity up to even more splendid heights. “I tell you, I was much happier contemplating God! God doesn’t make all this trouble for a person!”
    I was so angry, I didn’t even know where to begin to tell him off. I