by Robyn Carr
“You conspire with her,” he accused. “She is simple bred and can marry none but yeoman!”
“If one nobly born can be reduced to yeoman, then yeoman can in like be elevated.”
“Nay. Kilmore will take her as she is!”
“I say you nay!” John shouted, oblivious to any need to be quiet. “What is done is done and the motive matters little to me now! I’ll not sit upon the hill and watch my son raised by a farmer when he is within right to stand at my side! And further, it doesn’t meet my mood to think of Tess in another man’s arms when naught prevents our marriage but a stubborn old man! Bear the snickers of your neighbors as you will. She will come with me and she will be my lady now! It is done!”
“Father,” Tess attempted.
“Why do you this, Tess?” Rath asked bitterly. “Why would you give yourself sinfully to a man you have no earthly right to wed?”
She took a steadying breath and looked beseechingly into her father’s eyes. “God was most careful to show me my station when he cast me as a daughter to a simple man, but he was not so careful when letting me fall in love. I’m sorry, Papa.”
Rath sighed heavily. “Are you bound to have her, lad?”
“I am.”
“And how will you take her?”
“By force.” He smiled. “But, God willing, you’ll be near enough to watch your grandson grow up.”
“There’s naught I can do to stay you?”
“Nothing.”
“It’s not right,” he groaned, shaking his head in frustration. He looked between Tess and John and muttered, “But it has a better ring to it than bastard.”
“Thank you, Papa.” Tess smiled. “I never like to battle you as I have.”
“You have my deepest sympathy, lad. There’s not a more stubborn lass on the face of this earth.”
“I know that well enough,” John agreed, giving Tess a light squeeze. “Have you something better to clothe yourself with, cherie? I don’t want to take you away in your natural state.”
“Shall I bundle my things? They are few.”
“Nay, a heavy cloak is all. And hurry.”
She went through the door to the bedroom swiftly and John turned again to Rath. Now the warrior was at rest and the lad who had done wrong faced an elder. He shrugged innocently. “‘Twas not in my mind to fall in love with her, Rath. It comes to a great deal more than the child. I was bound to have her in any case. And it’s not her fault, Rath. You have to believe that.”
“I cannot reason this, John. Was it one night bent on love when there were a few simple words between you? You’re no stripling lad to know love at passion’s touch. There was no courtship, no involvement...” Again came the man’s confused head-shaking. John stilled him by placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Rath, had I not been cast from my own home as I was I would not have learned what I have of life and this world. Now at three and thirty I know what manner of lass must stand at my side to bring me honor. She must be strong and proud and determined. She must have a good and natural sense of justice and a compassionate nature. What more needs a man then but enough love to keep him warm, and sons? I knew your Tess to be every measure of a man’s desire before my lips touched hers.” He laughed low and commented, “She only rushed me a bit. My mind was made.” He shrugged, his pride showing. “Never fear, Rath. She is stubborn, but I am more so.”
Rath nodded and a faint smile found its way to his lips. “Will you tilt a cup with me, friend, and accept my blessing now?”
“With honor.”
When Tess came back to the doorway she stood silently, watching John and her father as they toasted, drank deep, and clasped hands in friendship.
The earl of Bryant had been called away on important business. He made his apologies to his wife and departed. It seemed there was a shipping problem that needed his immediate attention and he wasn’t sure but that he might have to travel to Portsmouth to see to it. He had not forgotten his decision. Chelynne was confined to the house. His orders were most specific. She was allowed to travel abroad to the New Exchange and the residences of friends during the daylight hours. No evenings out, no theater, no Whitehall dinners or receptions.
In this case, Chelynne sent for Gordon.
“I’m in need of information, Gordon. It must be sought out by a trustworthy person. I deem that person to be you, if you accept.”
“If I’m able to help, madam.”
“Quite by accident I found at Welby Manor an old document, the record of marriage that my hus—that the earl signed over six years ago.”
“The earl had been married?”
“The true possibility is that the earl may be married still. He has never mentioned any of this to me. I’m certain that my uncle did not know or he would have told me for my own protection. I cannot face him with the question in that case, and I must have the answer.”
“And how can I?” Gordon asked.
“I have only the name of the bride and the small town in which they were wed. It will take you back to the country, Gordon, and perhaps to an unpleasant sector. There must be family and friends there. You’ll have whatever money you need, of course.”
“Is there any other clue?”
“None other, to my knowledge. I can give you no advice, no counsel. Will you try?”
Gordon nodded but paused, looking at his young mistress with distressed eyes. “And if the earl’s marriage is valid? If he is married still?”
She winced involuntarily at the suggestion and looked away to cover it. “Then that would mean I am not,” she answered softly.
When Gordon left her she went directly to her husband’s study. She placed an invitation on top of his desk. If he returned from his business in time there was a dinner at Whitehall she was determined to attend. Chelynne was done with mysteries. She was bound for answers.
There was little diversion in the large house. She spent the majority of her time in her rooms with nothing to occupy her. The routine tasks being done all around her had gone unnoticed before and now they unnerved her. Tanya’s silence grated on her nerves. Chelynne was impatient and harsh, accusing the quiet girl of purposely remaining mute to aggravate her. She was shrewish, and she knew this, but could not even force herself to be polite.
When the earl returned to his home it was late at night. Chelynne heard him moving through the halls, the clicking of his boots making a sound she could never mistake. She pulled on her wrapper and opened the door to her bedroom. She called to him, stopping him before he entered his own rooms.
He paused and turned to see her. He was well worn, obviously tired from a long ride. She was a little surprised to see him in this condition. She had assumed he was in London with some other woman, a mistress or a wife. Perhaps she was wrong on some counts. Perhaps this once he was truly about business.
“What is it?” he asked impatiently.
“There’s a special favor I would like to ask of you. A dinner two days hence at Whitehall. By invitation, of course.”
“Do you have an escort?”
“I could arrange it,” she replied defensively. “But no one has offered and I haven’t asked.”
“I’ll take you...if it’s so important to you. Where is the invitation?”
“In your study. On your desk.”
“I’ll find it, then. Is that all?”
She nodded and started to say something of welcome, but he slipped into his room quickly to avoid any further conversation.
Chad leaned against the closed door in complete exhaustion. His arm pained him now, that sore member having been put too soon to the test. He rubbed the wound absently, thinking of the days past.
He had been called to Hawthorne House directly. There he had found John and Tess. While Tess sat alone in a closed-up portion of the great house, John and Chad rode with a few other men to the baron’s estates. That house had been closed up as well, but for the part that housed some of Chad’s own guard in the main hall.
The earl pulled out his men and sent them home. While Shayburn occupied his safe lodgings in London the manor house was stripped bare. Most of what they removed had been Bollering possessions before the war. They were not taken from the land but placed in an old cook house, hidden within the manor itself, and scattered about the village. They thought the matter quietly done, when the remaining force belonging to Shayburn returned to find them ravaging the manor. They had to defend themselves, and four were killed before Chad and John and their few supporters could escape.
This would subdue Shayburn. He wouldn’t be able to function any longer with his depleted manpower, weapons and supplies. He had little land to bargain with and precious few baubles to barter. He was in a state of complete financial ruin. But...he knew his enemy.
Chad returned to London with a traveling companion. He settled Tess with Mistress Connolly and his son. John had family in London but the risk was too great. He wouldn’t have Tess threatened now.
Chad fell into his bed, sleep overtaking him immediately. He awoke in the same clothes he had worn, ridden and fought in for days. He rose, bathed, and waited. At noon a message he had been expecting came. He gave some instructions to Bestel and went to his study to await his caller.
It was hard to keep from smiling when Lord Shayburn blew into the room. His face was red and twisted with rage.
“Thank you for seeing me, my lord,” Shayburn said carefully.
Chad nodded and leaned back in his chair to wait for the flustered man’s request. Shayburn was outdone. “Has your lordship been quite busy? I was told you were called to Portsmouth with some shipping business.”
“What is your business, my lord?”
“I don’t think I have to tell you why I’m here. I think you already know. Do you truly believe you have me fooled? Now?”
“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Why did you pull your guard from my village? From my home?”
“I thought the town quiet enough and I needed them elsewhere.”
“You’ve withdrawn your support entirely.”
“That is the fact.”
“The house was stripped,” he ground out accusingly.
“The family jewels gone,” Chad returned with a smile. Shayburn went livid with rage. Nothing that had been taken from his home had belonged to him or to any member of his family. They were Bollering possessions, taken the same way years ago.
“Robbery is no petty offense,” Shayburn threatened.
“As I recall...sometimes it is completely ignored.”
“You have ruined me!”
“You’ve had quite a time of it, haven’t you?” Chad asked with a smile.
“You’re quite certain I’ll walk out on it all now, aren’t you? You think you have me beaten?”
“At your own game, my lord. I am no longer giving you the opportunity. You will make good your debts or turn your land over to the benefactor I arranged for you now. Whatever I recommend will be heavily considered.”
“I’ve been to the king,” Shayburn blustered.
Chad smiled tolerantly, but the news greatly upset him. “I hope you haven’t made any foolish accusations, ones you cannot back up.”
“You bastard—”
“Now see here, my lord. I can’t allow you to use such a disrespectful course with me. I am not so coldhearted as to leave you walking naked in the streets, even though I have no doubt you would do that to another. I could easily relieve you of your burden to your satisfaction. You’ve lost it already, you know.”
“Not yet. I still have claim there.”
“Where?”
“The land!” he cried.
“Your debts?”
“Time is all I need—”
“I grant no more time. I propose to collect. You’re behind in taxes and tithes and have a great many other collectors standing in line. The dynasty has ended, my lord.”
“Your proposition?” Shayburn asked reluctantly.
“Virginia.”
“Never!”
“You refuse this solution?”
“England or nothing!”
“You are a fool, Shayburn,” Chad said easily. “And a coward. But you’ve sown the seeds to your own fate again. You have fifteen days to meet your debts. And manage this carefully. Thievery and murder to meet your ends will do you no good now. You are being watched. I give you this warning in hopes you make no attempts that will waste lives or property, because quite honestly, my lord, I would relish seeing you hang for what you have already done.”
“What are you going to do?” Shayburn asked a bit wearily.
“The people of that shire have suffered enough, my lord. I will make a recommendation to the king but of course the decision is not mine. I deal simply with facts. My advice is that you take up your old profession or accept the offered property in America.”
“What do you suppose His Majesty will think of the way I’ve been burned out? Do you think he will kindly accept the fact that one of his own nobles slit another’s throat, ravaged his lands, and murdered his people only to place that acreage in the hands of a well-known pirate and—”
Shayburn stopped as he noticed Chad was smiling, not at all worried about these accusations. Shayburn wheezed and blustered and Chad simply smiled. At last Chad leaned forward in his chair and placed both hands on the desk, looking into Shayburn’s eyes.
“In the event that you can prove any of your accusations I must warn you that there are at least twice as many testimonies implicating you in far worse crimes. As to murder, that protest is ineffectual as no murder was done in your shire. Swords were raised only in defense and those portrayed as dead actually live. You have ruined your own cause listening to rumors that Sir John is a pirate when in fact he is a knight of the realm with His Majesty’s support and permission in a privateering venture. I suggest you leave quietly, my lord. It is perhaps the only way you will do so alive.”
“I demand to know what card you hold!”
“I’m sorry. I’ve said all I am prepared to say.”
“You’ll pay for this, Bryant! This is war!”
Chad smiled. “I have paid for this, Shayburn. Many times over. If this is indeed war, it will be the shortest on record.”
Shayburn’s fury melted into fear. He had so many illegal dealings he didn’t know which to fear for most. Financing Dutch troops and vessels? Thievery? Bribing officials? Scanting the tax? The old battle with Bollering?
He slammed his hat on his head and left the earl. Smiling at the quick departure, Chad leaned back in his chair. Slowly the smile faded. He was weary. Tired. He wished only for peace.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
At Whitehall there is ceremony and beauty. Artfully garbed gentlemen posture over the hands of exquisitely dressed women. Tables heavily burdened with scrumptious and unusual foods artistically prepared fill the rooms. Large ice sculptures decorate the tables; the orchestra stands ready to play.
But it is an illusion. As one presses one’s way into this noble throng the senses immediately reveal the falseness of this beauty. The stench of unwashed bodies is almost overpowering. Courtly manners are contradicted by the sight of a gentleman crossing the room to relieve himself on the wall. Ice sculptures melt to run onto the floor with leftover bits of food and spilled wine. Rodents creep dangerously close to steal a morsel. The people who stand chatting in the corne
rs are usually plotting some way to ruin an associate or seal for themselves a better position at someone else’s expense.
Louise de Keroualle was firmly established as the king’s favorite mistress. She was surrounded by her own party of well-wishers, her throng of supporters, those who zealously sought her good favors to improve their status. She, however, sat in a pout tonight. The king’s other mistress, an actress from the theater, was about her usual mischief, relishing doing things that would embarrass Louise.
Chelynne found her former admirers a little less eager and the ladies a little more responsive. She found a circle of women to sit with and noticed her husband seeking out the king.
Chad stood near Charles, but not too near. Chad didn’t like the close contact and hated speaking to anyone who forced his presence closer and closer during the conversation.
“I understand congratulations are in order, my lord,” Charles said without looking at him.
“I shouldn’t think so, sire,” Chad returned somewhat sullenly.
“Nasty business, this,” Charles commented with some humor in his voice. “Wears a man out to have a beautiful wife, trying to keep the men out from under her skirts all the time.”
Chad grunted his reply, completely unintelligible to Charles. But the king laughed as if he had been let in on some great private joke. Chad looked toward him in confusion and for the first time since their conversation began they met eyes. Amused brown with suspicious brows stared into younger, lighter, gray stones. Chad was seldom at a disadvantage. For his sovereign he was obligated to be disadvantaged. “I prefer my friends handle their problems less dramatically, Bryant. I thought we agreed on that and other things.”
“Aye, sire.”
“Your battlefield reputation is well known so not many are surprised. But then few have known you as I have. Indeed, you’re a mystery to many.”
Chad smiled. “And not you, sire?”
“Not I,” he returned simply. “But then I have another advantage. I knew Sir John as well as yourself.”
“And?”