by Robyn Carr
Eleanor extended her hand to the earl to be kissed without the benefit of an introduction. He took it reluctantly and Lord Mondeloy frowned his displeasure, embarrassed by this display. “A pleasure, madam,” the earl greeted her, and released her quickly.
Eleanor smiled and batted her lashes worse than any virgin maid. “But the pleasure is mine, my lord,” she simpered. She turned slightly and Chelynne had her first glimpse of Eleanor’s full face. There were round pink splotches applied to an almost ivory white complexion. Red paint made her full lips even fatter and patches like those she had heard the ladies at court were wearing swirled about her bulging cheeks. She was a monstrosity. It would have been more pleasant to look on the face of an ass. Chelynne was a little afraid she would throw up her skirts and display a diamond garter.
“We’ve been most anxious about your visit, my lord,” she went on. “And we’ve made some grand plans—”
“I’m here about business, madam. No airs were necessary.”
“But I assure you, it was no trouble at all.” Eleanor looked around. To her dismay there was only one place she could sit comfortably and still be close to the conversation, and the earl occupied that settee. She hesitated and he shifted before that piece restlessly, eager to be seated. Finally, in resignation, she chose a couch on the other side of the room. It was large enough to accommodate that generous frame, but the distance galled her. She released a little huff as she lowered herself into it and the earl sighed in relief, able to sit again.
Eleanor was given time to be served, to partake of the pastries, and then the earl started his business, without ceremony.
“Now that you are present, madam, we may begin with what I feel will be a very short business discussion between two families. Your husband’s dowry offer pleases me, the appearance of this young woman is to my liking, and I have one question for you. Have you guarded the virtue of this maiden with care?”
Eleanor’s mouth was full, stuffed with a sticky and chewy pastry. She couldn’t chew it and swallow it in good time, so she pushed it to one side of her mouth and answered with slightly muffled speech, “But of course, my lord.”
“But it has come to my attention that she has not been under your roof but for token visits. How can you attest to her status?”
Insulted at the insinuation that she was not an adequate guardian, Eleanor gasped and wheezed in a large part of her pastry, choking on her frustrated reply. Lord Mondeloy’s voice was clear, relaxed and firm above his wife’s choking fit. “I made all decisions concerning Chelynne’s travels and lodgings. I entrusted her to the care of her own mother’s childhood nurse and took full financial and moral responsibility. An inquiry would show that the nobles she has visited both here and abroad speak highly of her virtue. It is a matter of fact that you need not question again, but we will, of course, consent to an examination.”
Chelynne smiled her satisfaction. The earl then turned to the maiden in question. “Do your uncle’s marriage plans meet with your approval, Lady Chelynne?”
Though somewhat startled that her opinion would be sought, she did not show the surprise. “My uncle has always acted in my best interest, my lord. I would not question his choice for me.”
The earl smiled and turned again to Lord Mondeloy. “What have you done to warrant the trust this youngster has in your judgment?”
“Quite simply, my lord,” Sheldon answered easily, “I have never given her cause to doubt.”
The earl was well pleased. He had viewed many a candidate for a bride for his sole heir and found the fondness in this family to be a pleasant change. The entire arrangement was favorable, the atmosphere to his liking. He humbled himself and spoke to the baron now as a friend and not a superior. “I would ask your indulgence in one more thing, my lord. Would you permit me the use of your study and a few moments alone with Lady Chelynne?”
“It’s most irregular,” Sheldon started, frowning slightly. He had no wish to make this more difficult for Chelynne than it already was. Though he admired and respected the earl, he was aware of a somewhat caustic nature and he wouldn’t see Chelynne frightened or hurt in any way.
He had started to voice his disapproval when the earl held up a hand, cutting him off. “Let me assure you of my intention, my lord. I have come to the conclusion that this young woman would be a choice mate for my son. The dowry, the bride and all other things meet with my approval. There is but one question in my mind and it is a family matter. I would speak in confidence with the young woman seeking to be a member of our household. I would see her approval to the contract. I will take my son only a willing bride.”
There was silence in the room as the men stared at each other in contemplation. “My lord,” beckoned a soft voice. The earl turned to Chelynne and she spoke quietly. “If this be Lord Mondeloy’s choice for me, you would find me willing.”
The earl smiled in warm communication. “Chelynne, you stir the oldest blood with your gentle manner. My dear, I do not question your conduct. I believe you would do all in your power to bring only honor to my house. Would you spare an old man some moments of your time to talk of family affairs?”
Chelynne looked in indecision to her uncle, not knowing if she should answer or if it would be his place, his wish to answer for her. He nodded to her to give her reply and she looked back to the earl with a smile. “At your pleasure, my lord.”
“Has the time come that we ask our young to decide on matters such as marriage?” Eleanor cried, aghast.
“In this instance, perhaps,” the earl returned, unpiqued.
“In my day that was left up to the elders,” she informed him. Then, turning to Sheldon she said, “Isn’t that so, my lord?”
The earl looked to Lord Mondeloy and saw displeasure in his eyes. He smiled and said quietly, “Mayhaps they should have asked your pleasure.” Lord Mondeloy nodded slightly and the earl extended his arm again for Chelynne. Eleanor was left to huff and grunt in disapproval as they left the drawing room.
Eleanor had long been entertained by deciding other people’s lives. She was at her best when she thought she might improve herself in so doing. But this was the one place where Sheldon would not satisfy her whims. He disregarded her harping and meddling. She could do as she pleased with Harry, but Chelynne was always kept out of her reach. She was greatly chafed by this fact.
Chelynne found the earl more appealing as she got to know him better. He was polite and good natured. When they were seated in the study he did not cause her increased anxieties by delay. He broached his topic of concern straightaway. She listened quietly and with interest.
“My son has been most reluctant to marry. I’ve left him to find a wife of his own and he has failed to do so. Oh, he plays his charms among the ladies aplenty, but without the bonds of matrimony I cannot get an heir. There is hostility between my son and me, Chelynne. You’d be aware of it without my warning. I won’t communicate the causes to you now for fear I would alienate you from the man who must have your loyalty without question. He may confide in you sometime. I hope so.
“The time has come at last that I have found an opportunity to quicken my son into marriage. He will oblige me because I have put myself in a position to offer him no alternative, but he will not aid my cause. He must heed my wishes or suffer unhappy consequences. Do you understand?”
It was with a bitter feeling that she understood perfectly. “He does not wish to marry and will not be happy with your choice of bride,” she mumbled dully.
“Unfortunately that is the case. But then he has not seen my choice or had the opportunity to make it his choice as well. I am not a foolish man, Chelynne. You are beautiful and innocent. My son is a fine man, honorable and honest. He has a great deal of integrity and pride. You are a like match for a man like that. I think in time he will resign himself to this situation and relax to enjoy the benefits it can bring...happily.”
“Why do you tell me this, my lord?”
“For the simple reason that
should you find yourself beset with an ill-tempered and reluctant groom you would know that it is because of a conflict between father and son, and no fault of yours. I give my son credit, perhaps more than he is due, that he will not cause you pain to do me hurt. It is not his nature to be a clod.”
“Is it possible he will still refuse?”
“No, he won’t do that now. Had I the time, madam, I would wait upon a more solid reconciliation, but time is short for me. I have had a long productive life, I have slaved to hold that earldom through wars that sent every noble fleeing for his life. My only wish now is to place it in the hands of my heir and see him settled and happy.
“Your future is financially secure, Chelynne. I have acquired a modest fortune and my son has done extremely well for himself. Should you deliver him a round dozen children they will all have sound inheritances. He has property in Jamaica and America and a shipping business that is no small concern. But...your patience no doubt will be tested.”
“But my lord, with all this talk of ill health, you seem to be more than fit.”
“At this very moment I am that. I traveled to an inn not far from here and at the first hint of easing pain I came to see your uncle. I’m allowed some passing moments from my bed, a sudden energy now and then. I shall hasten to my home before I am beset again.”
Chelynne felt a sympathy for the old man, thinking of what a burden and disappointment Harry was to his father. She knew no way to convey her feelings so she was silent.
“My lady, I await your consent.”
“I...I...” she stammered, not knowing what to say, since in truth she greatly dreaded this union.
“I suppose I seem a cruel man not to allow you the counsel of your uncle. I know that you trust his wisdom, but this must be your decision alone. This is an age of deplorable habits, madam. Whenever there is marital strife a couple simply separates yet lives in the same house. I scarcely know a man who doesn’t keep a whore, a mistress and another man’s wife.”
To her horrified expression he slammed his hand on the desk and went on, emphasizing every word. “‘Tis truth, by God, and the women have come to the like. I cannot name you one instance that is otherwise.”
“My lord?”
“I would have it otherwise, Chelynne. I would bring my son a virtuous bride, fair of face and of gentle manner and breeding. I would not sew him into wedlock where there is no possibility of love, no chance of success. What is your decision?”
“You’ve not found another maiden who interests you?”
“I’m bound to find one with many qualities desirable in a wife. If there is beauty, they are hellish. If there is a kind nature, there is no blood in the name or they have a face no man can look upon. In those rare cases where I’ve found everything fitting, they’ve been promised straight from the cradle. No, Chelynne, I’ve not found one who could hold a candle to you.”
“Then I would have a condition to my consent.”
He was taken aback somewhat by this. He had not thought her so bold. He braced himself, hoping he had not been too far wrong in judging her to be compliant. “Which is, madam?”
“I would make your son’s acquaintance before the contracts are drawn. I shan’t judge him on reluctance or courtly manner. I would see only that he is not cruel or violent. I can condition myself to show patience to a reluctant groom, but I will not commit myself to a lifetime of harsh abuse. That is my condition.”
She did not falter or stammer and the earl smiled when she had finished. She had a willful nature; this he liked. She was bright, and this, too, was admirable. He had nothing to fear of this condition, for his son was chivalrous where women were concerned. “Very well, Chelynne. We can tell your family that all is done. My son will charm you.”
At dinner that night the earl took a seat beside Chelynne and left the rest of the family to shift for themselves. Eleanor kept up a stream of conversation, flaunting the many impressive names she claimed as friends and all the places she had visited. Harry was all but ignored. The earl and Lord Mondeloy simply nodded as they ate.
When dinner was done and an evening libation served, the earl was once again bent on business. He related his plans to them as if he were holding court. Though small of stature he had a most commanding manner. “Chelynne and her retinue will come to Hawthorne House in one month’s time. She may retain whatever servants she has a liking to and any other wants will be provided. There will be a generous household budget allotted to her for her needs. I have planned a ball, an occasion to celebrate the engagement. Two days later we will marry the couple in my chapel; however irregular, this is my son’s most ardent wish...and the only request he has made.”
“It seems fitting,” Sheldon said, sensing the earl wanted his approval.
“Your family will of course be welcome in my home for all the festivities. We will sign the contracts at Hawthorne House when you have arrived. I will leave on the morrow and expect you to arrive as planned, in one month.”
“Tomorrow!” Eleanor choked, her mouth again full of food, though dinner had long since been removed. “B-b-but Your Lordship, we’ve planned entertainment and have guests arriving for the pleasure of your visit.”
“I’m here about business, madam. I thought I made that clear.”
“But Your Lordship, we’ve gone to such—”
“Pity. I’d rather you had heeded my message. I said my stay would be short and I wouldn’t have you troubled. My health is a scandalous affair and I would save it for the important events to come.”
Eleanor almost gagged at the implication. She wasn’t important?
“I had hoped to discuss other matters,” she managed, still aghast at this breach of etiquette.
“And what other matters concern me?”
“Why...I thought...perhaps...” She stammered and shuffled her words not knowing how to broach the subject she had planned to lead up to with more grace. All eyes were on her, waiting. She raised her chin and spoke directly to the earl, matching his commanding voice. “The matter is my son. I should like to see him put in a position to improve his status. I hoped you would give us some advice.”
The earl leaned back in his chair, amusement plain on his features. He stared at the woman in wonder, her gall the most incredible he had seen in some years and her tact virtually nonexistent. He laughed and shook his head, more in dismay than mirth. “Madam, for over thirty years my son has defied my every attempt at helping him. But he has built himself a veritable empire, taking advantage of neither my aid nor my approval. I am not grateful for his independence but I have a great deal of respect for his integrity. He used his head and his hands, madam. That is my advice.”
“And sound advice,” Lord Mondeloy interjected. “Harry has a future in this land. If it doesn’t meet his fancy he has my blessing to set about making his own fortune.”
The earl gave a nod and was about to leave the room. Eleanor caught him moments before his escape. “Perhaps you could suggest a suitable marriage partner,” she attempted quickly, fearing she was losing ground.
“Certainly, madam,” he said with a bow. He let his eyes go over Harry quickly and then turned back to Eleanor. “Before I leave in the morning I shall give you the list of those ladies I have interviewed and rejected.”
Eleanor was cut to the quick and even Harry had the good grace to blush. Without further chat he bade them all good night and Harry and his mother were left stunned and helpless.
CHAPTER TWO
June in England is a glorious green, a majesty of rich tones spattered over hillsides, split by the shining blue of streams that quench the thirst of hungry crops. Setting the stage for the ceaseless labors of the hot months was a festival, a celebration for the people of Welbering to toast their planting. Spirits rose to a high pitch as all enthusiastically threw themselves into the work that lay ahead.
The lord of these lands attended every celebration, every fair and gathering with pride. He shook the hand of many a yeoman farmer,
tousled the hair of the happy youth, and kissed the babies. These were his children in a sense. He could only prosper as they would. Every hand that turned the sod, every back that bent and every body that hauled crops in harvest, they were all his responsibility. In times of joy and sorrow.
Chelynne was innocently unaware of the real beauty of Welbering. She accompanied her uncle when he went into the village and took the happiness of his people for granted. She had visited many other manors, stayed for long months with other nobles both in England and in France, and never took a very close look at the management of the lands. All that she was consciously aware of was that Welby Manor and the lands around it were heaven to her.
Here she could be a child again. Sheldon had tailors sew an elaborate trousseau for her. Heavy gowns were made from rich velvets undersewn with lustrous silks. Delicate lace adorned them and shimmering studs sparkled about them. Sheer and almost weightless chemises were sewn to her size and tremendous petticoats fashioned to hold out her gowns. Slippers were cut and joined to perfectly fit her small foot. But she found the heavy garments burdensome in the stifling heat and chose instead the simple linen dresses that were cool and light. However much this chafed her pretentious aunt, Sheldon would not have his niece chastened. She was allowed to do as she pleased.
Those whose positions were secure in the manor were a happy lot. The gardeners were content to show her the arts of manicuring the grounds and the pampering of a single rose. The women who groomed the huge home, keeping every speck of dust absent, every metal adornment shining, every crystal shimmering, smiled or hummed as they did their chores. Stella relaxed here as well, feeling reunited with old friends in this setting. When her own labors left her some time for leisure she sought out the other serving women in the huge Mondeloy kitchens and over a cool ale they laughed and exchanged gossip.