Chelynne

by Robyn Carr

Her conversation came so easily, her mood so compliant and trusting that it softened him somewhat. Not for an instant did it change his mind, but nonetheless, the rest came a little more gently. “Shall you like being a countess?”

  “I think I shall,” she returned, not greatly upset with the question.

  “And this, of course, was your reason for accepting so quickly?”

  “Not mine. Perhaps my uncle’s reason. He recalled making your acquaintance some years ago and vouched for your good character. He was most pleased that your father would consider me.”

  “Does he seek compensation from you for arranging this?”

  “Of course not,” she gasped. “How could you think it?”

  “Chelynne, it is not uncommon,” he said. “Know you so little of politics?”

  “My lord,” she said earnestly. “He never suggested that. It was only my future that concerned him. God’s truth.”

  Chad went on with his breakfast. Chelynne slowed down with hers, wondering at this topic of conversation. She watched him as he ate, noticing only now that some of his movements were tense and strained, his brow creased with thought lines. When he looked up from his plate, she was staring at him.

  “Have you ever been in love?” he asked.

  “No. I think not.”

  “Not even a little, perhaps?”

  “Nay, never love,” she said softly. Not before this man, she could see that now.

  “Had we met, things would have gone quite differently, I think. I might have courted you for a while, but more likely I would have had little time for that. What did my father tell you of me?”

  “Very little,” she confessed, growing nervous.

  “Did he warn you of my attitude toward this marriage?”

  “He...he said you would likely be reluctant.”

  “Did he think to tell you that he used force of a most distasteful sort to bring me to the altar?”

  “No,” she whispered, growing more alarmed.

  “It is so. He could have brought me a fat old widow or a bony pox-faced spinster, but he chose a young woman of rare beauty. Do you know why?”

  She hardly knew what answer he could expect her to give. Her eyes were frightened and when she looked at him he could almost feel her shudder. “For your pleasure, I assume,” she replied, lowering her eyes and folding her trembling hands in her lap.

  “I suppose,” he muttered. “Primarily it is because he wants heirs, fine looking and well bred. You’ve done well for yourself, it’s true, for you’ve gained a fair amount of wealth and a fine title. You’re pleased, are you not?”

  “I thought only of the manner of man I would wed. The title means nothing to me and I was content with my family’s wealth.” She was near tears, her eyes moist and troubled. She couldn’t fathom the reason for this discussion since it was done and they were wed.

  “But you are willing to give me heirs, though a little naive?”

  “I didn’t think on it heavily, my lord.”

  “Ah, then you hadn’t considered pregnancy?”

  “I...ah...well, I never...I don’t know,” she mumbled, distraught. She hadn’t thought of anything past kissing him and being near him. Thoughts of the consummation fled her mind but for that brief fear. Touching, loving, she had thought of that. Pregnancy? She hadn’t really thought that far.

  “I will say this as gently as possible, Chelynne. I am simply not ready to be married. I have a great many matters of business that require my close attention and will take me away frequently, sometimes for long periods of time. Sharing this house with you is no great burden and there is no one else I seek to wed. The contract is signed and I will not break it. I was not well keened to the idea of marriage, and the earl would not consider a delay.”

  “But ‘tis done,” she murmured, the shock obvious in her voice.

  “Not entirely done, Chelynne. The vows were said and that is all.”

  “Before a man of God,” she gasped, awed at this blasphemy.

  “The problem is this,” he said easily. “I have made myself responsible for a great many things. There are business and personal matters that I will not explain to you because they are complex and private. Had the matter of marrying been left up to me, I would have waited to see these things done first. Had I met you, fallen in love with you, and desired you for my wife without the earl’s interfering, I would have asked you to wait to see these problems of mine solved. Do you understand?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Chad sighed. “It is not very complicated, Chelynne. You are welcome to remain here as my wife, live in this house as its mistress and have everything you are due. I simply cannot tie myself down to the burdens of a family now and it will have to wait. I will not betray the personal terms of our marriage to outsiders. Enjoy the comforts of this home as my wife—”

  “But I am your wife,” she cried, tears springing to her eyes.

  “Partially,” he returned, taking another drink of his coffee and raising one brow at her.

  “But if I do not live here as your wife, how could I stay? And I said the vows, and in truth I meant them, so how may I go?”

  “The blossom of youth,” he muttered scornfully. “There are years ahead of you, my dear. There’s no need to despair a few weeks or months. The time will come one day when I can settle myself to family matters. To use you as a wife would be deceitful, for I don’t want one now. I have no time for fussing with garters and petticoats. There are important matters that need my attention and cosseting a youthful bride is not very high on my list of obligations. If this is going to send you into a fit, then go to your uncle and tell him there was no consummation and you wish to go home.”

  “But...but he would be humiliated...your father would...”

  “My father could stand some humbling. He will be my concern. What of you?”

  “Sheldon would be...” Tears rolled down her cheeks pathetically. “You feel nothing for me?”

  “Come now, Chelynne. We have only just met! You’re lovely and desirable but so is half of London. This is your choice: stay here and act the part of wife with patience or do as you please elsewhere. There’s no need to weep, it’s a simple matter of giving me the time I need to finish business.”

  “I don’t understand,” she whimpered.

  Chad was becoming more agitated with this upset every moment. “Had you married a knight who was called to war the morning after you were wed, what would you do?”

  “Wait,” she replied softly.

  “Now do you understand?”

  “I suppose.” In her lap her hands twisted nervously, her fingers slipping on and off the ring she wore that bore his crest. This proposition was not frightening, only disappointing. That the groom was reluctant, she expected. That he would use her was something she had not expected. He was asking her to win him, deserve him, sit in patient exile while he made his decision. He could obtain an annulment whenever it suited him, cast her away and be done with it.

  But she was not one to give up so easily something she wanted. She would stay rather than shame Sheldon by being returned as an unsatisfactory bride. She would stay rather than embarrass the earl by leaving and thus proving his failure. And she would stay because the dreams of a young heart that had never known total defeat could not be easily erased.

  “Of business problems I know nothing and of personal ones I have had few,” she murmured. “And as you say, there is time ahead...”

  “That’s fine,” he said casually. “Now let’s not have a great deal of fuss over this, my dear. There’s no reason for airs between us, no reason for hostilities. You’ll be fine as long as you remember that I set you aside temporarily to see my work accomplished. If I thought I could explain it to you and make it simpler to understand, I would do so. As I said, it is a private business as well as a complicated one. One such matter will take me away two days hence for a while.”

  “For very long?” she asked hesitantly.

  “I
hope not.”

  “I’ll keep busy,” she murmured, totally dejected now. He saw the disappointment on her face and felt horrible for having to use her at this rate. The poor child could never have known what a miserable affair she had been sold into.

  “You’re a child,” he said softly. “A few years from now you won’t even think about this. I promise you.”

  Her eyes rose to meet his and there was a new depth to the clear brown that he hadn’t noticed before now. It was a kind of maturity, cynicism perhaps, that told of thoughts much more complicated and introspective than he had believed her capable of. “I hope so, Chad.”

  That was one of the first steps Chelynne took toward womanhood and a worldly education. There were a great many to follow, and none of them very easy.

  In the next two days Chelynne was busy and Chad was much in her company, though she strongly suspected it was for appearance’ sake. They rode, took their meals together, played card games or simply sat, she taking up some needlework and he reading or writing letters.

  She accustomed herself to this much of a rote, becoming comfortable in the presence of a man. He played his part very well, as though he knew the details expertly. He routinely allowed her some short time alone to prepare for bed and strode into her rooms like a well-acquainted groom and hurried the servants away impatiently. He would pour a brandy from her stock, kept there and replenished by the servants for his pleasure, and visit with her while she sat propped in the bed. Then a light and somewhat affectionate kiss would be dropped on her brow and he would go quietly through the sitting room to his own bed.

  When she woke in the morning, at the first sound of her stirring he would stride in, refreshed and well rested, and take the breakfast meal with her. He paid her strained courtesy as if they had only just met. If he took tobacco, it was only with her permission. When fixing his drink he would offer her wine. It was not at all as if they had lain naked together in the same bed, but rather as if they had been formally introduced at a recent ball. She would be a long time in understanding him.

  On the third morning, when she rose and he did not come, she wondered aloud about his absence to a serving maid. She was informed, secondhand, that he had gone about business in some faraway shire and that his time of return was not known.

  Most of the guests had either left or were preparing to leave within the week. Since the earl was suffering again and confined to his bed, Sheldon persuaded Eleanor that they should be going as well. To Chelynne’s disappointment they allowed Harry to stay. She wondered at her uncle’s wisdom in this, but it was fairly certain that in his room the earl would not be disturbed with the younger Mondeloy’s presence. As for Chelynne, she sorely desired to stay as far from him as she could. But Harry was invisible, unpopular enough to go completely unnoticed. Even his father did not see him for days following the wedding.

  Chad had been gone from Hawthorne House for over a week when early in the morning there came a persistent knocking at Chelynne’s door. Stella admitted the intruder and Harry smiled across the room at his cousin.

  “Good morning, cousin. I’ve come to bid you farewell.”

  “You’re going this morning, Harry?” she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

  “Speak not of how you’ll miss me, dear. I’ll be nearby.”

  “Truth is that I’ve not seen you since the day of the wedding, yet your things were all there in your room. What’s busied you here?”

  “Your new lands, Chelynne. Many pleasant diversions for a man who knows what he’s about. I’ve been quite busy.” There was a sly smile twisting his mouth and Chelynne assumed he had been occupying himself wenching in the villages around them. She hoped Chad would not learn of it.

  “Have a safe journey,” she said without much feeling, turning away from him.

  “I shall. I left you a gift, Chelynne. A surprise.”

  “A gift?” she asked, startled enough to look up expectantly. “You needn’t have, Harry. That...was very thoughtful of you. What is it?”

  “A surprise, my lady. It’s hidden, but you’ll soon come upon it. You’ll know it when you see it and I pray you remember, it is your gift.”

  “Why... that’s very kind of you, Harry.” And out of character, she thought.

  He laughed, that impish laugh that she despised. It was rather shrill and feminine sounding, not unlike a cat in the night screaming at the moon. “Yes, it was kind. I can be kind, my dear, but if I were you I wouldn’t expect kindness again.”

  “Harry.” She pouted. “You spoil everything in the end, don’t you? You might have left the gift and said no more.”

  “Good-bye, cousin. You’ll hear from me.” And he was gone.

  Chelynne didn’t have to wonder long about her surprise. She found it readily enough and when she did she blushed. It was a letter, aged and worn, and the signature at the bottom was simply “M.” It was not the fact that he had left her a letter that her own mother had most obviously written that embarrassed her; rather, it was the fact that she found it in the jewel coffer near her bed. The only way he could have managed was to put it there while she slept. Her loathing for him was so intense that to think he might have caught a glimpse of her scantily clothed left her livid and shamed.

  Her anger faded quickly in her eagerness to read the letter at hand. She sent Stella from her room so that she could have complete privacy for the enjoyment of this brief link with the past. It was a long letter, it being hard to find couriers during those times. Many pages were held together mostly by age and the writing in some places was smeared and indiscernible. She read of what the exiled nobles were doing while hoping to gain England again for their home. Her mother thought the cause hopeless by now, believing they were bound to travel like poverty-stricken gypsies forever. They were already bereft of the finer things they had known before the wars. Madelynne professed she was proud, in any case, to be serving Charles. She praised him openly in her letter. She would be glad to live by whatever means for the royal cause.

  There came, very suddenly, another mention of the king, and Chelynne was not quite prepared, though she thought later that she should have been. It was not so frank as she would have hoped, but the message to her uncle Sheldon was this:

  The child is expected some three months hence, Sheldon. My husband is convinced, beyond doubt, that there is a conspiracy against his name, but he seems not to hold me in any contempt for my indiscretion. He has long been beset with an ugly problem in getting an heir to his name, and now, after many years, there shall be one. He will accept it, as of course he must, because he cannot and will not challenge the man he suspects. Were there any need to confirm the possibility, it would easily be done. You know now who that man must be.

  I ask this of you, Sheldon. Should anything happen to either Sylvester or myself, see to this child of ours. You have known me well and for many years. I need not explain that anything I would do would be for a strong and passionate love. I am left now with only brief memories of moments past, and love to me, especially now, is as rare as moon dust. But do my child this, if I cannot. Teach him that love is just. It is more merciful than war, more nourishing than bread and more soothing than wine. And I have decided that it is the only logical reason for living.

  There was a great deal more to the letter, but Chelynne only skimmed it. Nothing further was mentioned of the child. There was no doubt now that her mother had fallen in love with Charles Stuart and that Chelynne was the product of that love. Her name was Mondeloy because her father had no choice, his service being to his king. She felt the sharp sting of pity for Lord Mondeloy, being cast aside by his wife for another lover. But strangely, she felt no shame or anger toward Madelynne. The letter had touched her deeply. She respected her mother’s honesty and sensitivity. It was much as Sheldon had told her, that a child was only as gentle and worthy as the love that got it. Could it be more right to bear a child to a man you loathed, even if the bonds of wedlock bound you to him?

  And she
held the evidence in her hand. Sheldon had told her there was nothing of her parents. He must have either treasured the letter or hidden it for her protection. But then would Madelynne have made the crude mistake of explaining this circumstance more than once in a letter? It was highly unlikely, for the risk of doing so once was foolish. Chelynne determined, logically, that this must be the only written proof. She would see Sheldon in a few months and must ask him then if there could be something more. With this letter in her possession, he would not dare mislead her another time.

  She read it again and again and again, memorizing every word carefully. Then, with a smile on her lovely little face, she walked to the fireplace and set it upon the hot coals. It was gone from human eyes and sealed in her heart. She laughed guiltily and then covered her mouth, though no one was there to see her. Harry was a fool. No longer could he taunt her with it. Could he?

  Another strong urge possessed her. To see this king she had heard so much about. To judge for herself whether her mother had been sane or half crazed to allow this illicit love. Whatever her determination would be after meeting him, one thing kept pounding into her brain. He was the king! The greatest man on earth!

  Chelynne whiled away the days, riding as she could, bored with being bound to escorts. Chad had left orders as to the routes she was allowed to take, never even allowing her to explore these lands at will. Finally she went to see the earl, more out of boredom than goodwill.

  “Shoo, girl, begone from here. This illness is no sight for a young maid.”

  “I’ve seen illness, my lord,” she replied from her place just inside the door. “Would you favor company?”

  “Ah, you’re a lovely sight for this ailing heart, but don’t be troubled. It’s a hideous thing, this.”

  She came a little closer, pitying the man who had been so lively at her wedding. She couldn’t understand this illness that came and went so abruptly. He had been bright and cheerful and now was obviously low in his health. He had a stale gray pallor; a mere shriveled hump in the bedclothes was the earl of Bryant.