Finally, the Duchess lifted her hand for him to stop. “My son, there is an important matter to discuss…”
“No, Mother. No important matters today! That’s for financiers and solicitors to worry about. You and I shall only discuss frivolous things that make us both laugh!” Callum joked, pretending to evade her words.
“No, my boy. This is too grave a matter to leave to others.” She smiled though, and Callum noted how her eyes were still bright, still seemingly full of mischief, even in her state.
“All right, Mother. What is it?” he asked, breathing deeply to calm the sad tremor his voice.
“Your future,” she whispered back, closing her eyes briefly and trying to recover an ounce of strength. “You are not married…”
“Oh dear! I’m not? Then who’s that woman who shares my bed and has already borne me four children?” he teased, but Jane shook her head slightly. When he saw how it hurt her, Callum grew serious. “I’m sorry, I’m only teasing you. But yes, you’re quite right. I have not yet married.”
“I know I will not be here to see that day, but I want you to seek a bride. You deserve every happiness, and…” His mother paused as a desperately weak cough escaped from her lips, then said, “…and you will make a fine husband for any lady.”
“Mother, I know these things,” Callum said softly. “I’ve only come into my own property last year, and already the matrons of the ton are shoving daughters and nieces in my direction. One hapless young lady was literally shoved so that she might fall in front of me!”
Jane smiled thinly. “You jest again.”
“I swear, I do not! The poor girl fell to the ground, but I was so surprised I jumped back a pace. Fortunately, Sir William jumped in to help her to her feet before I could recover myself, but alas, now they’re to be married next month.”
“Son, don’t make me waste the breaths I have left chastising you for lying!” Jane managed to say.
“Yes, Mother,” Callum said, trying to look ashamed of himself but failing. He sighed, then said, “But I know that your heart’s desire is to know that I am happily wed. I give you my solemn vow—not with a laugh or a jest, but with my most sincere heart—that I will find a wife when the time comes, and we shall name our first child after you. Even if it’s a boy! No, don’t look at me like that, I’m not playing now. All right, fine, we’ll change his name to James.”
The Duchess smiled at her son, and Callum took her hand as he leaned forward in earnest.
“Mother, I must offer you a deal. If I’m to give up my carefree ways and shackle myself to a wife at your request, you must give me something in the bargain,” he said, the tears beginning to fall as he turned serious. “Please let Dr. Preston give you something for your pain.”
Lady Jane closed her eyes and frowned, unable to argue. She opened them again and attempted a look of firm disapproval, but Callum pressed on.
“I know you are only refusing so that you can be lucid until the end,” he whispered, “but Mother, it’s time. You need not suffer on our account. You did not raise me to be so selfish as to think only of myself, to keep you in pain so that I might speak to you and laugh with you a while longer. Think of it as yet another gift to me, heaped on all that you’ve ever given me… please don’t remain in this agony on my account, or Father’s.”
His mother leaned back against the pillows even further, then nodded slowly. The relief from acknowledging the pain and accepting whatever relief the physician might provide was visible on her face. Callum squeezed both of her hands gently in his own and smiled.
“I promise you, I will do as you ask. I will seek a wife and marry before the next year is out. I only grieve that you will not be with us when that day comes, but you have my every assurance that it will be so.”
Jane opened her eyes and pointed to a gold inlaid bureau across the room. “Bring me the case,” she said.
Callum looked to where her thin hand gestured, then crossed the room to retrieve his mother’s jewelry chest. The opaline and gold case was heavy, but he lifted it and brought it to the chair where he’d sat. Kneeling at her bedside, he looked to her curiously before opening the case.
“All of these will belong to your wife. I know they will be nothing compared to her beauty, but she will adorn herself with them whenever you venture out, when you entertain together. But this piece…”
Jane pointed to the lowest drawer and Callum slowly opened it to reveal only one item. It looked like a simple tiara of sorts, something a child might wear while pretending to play at being a princess or fair maiden. It was certainly by far not as opulent as the other pieces she possessed, ones with diamonds and emeralds and rubies. He lifted it out and held it up, smiling at the simplicity of the twisting vines of silver adorned all over its face with small white pearls. Tiny leaves of silver were merely dotted here and there with flakes of gold, looking very much like drops of sunshine on the surface.
“I wore this on my wedding day,” she breathed. “I know you can offer your bride so much more than this, but it would honor my love for your father and my love for you if she might wear it, too.”
Callum brushed at his torrent of tears with his sleeve. “Of course, Mother. I will insist upon it, but rest assured that any woman I marry would be grateful to wear something that means so much to us.”
He turned the headpiece over in his hands, marveling at its understated elegance and trying to reconcile his mother’s choice of ornament. How did it come about that the Duke of Tarnton might marry the daughter of another member of the peerage while she wore something so seemingly ordinary?
As though reading his thoughts, Jane answered his unspoken question. “It was a gift from the person who meant the most to me in the world, my dear governess who’d raised me when my own mother did not survive my birth. More than just my teacher, she had put aside some money for several years to buy it, knowing that someday I would be married and she would no longer have a position in the household. It meant more to me than any jewel in the world because it was given out of selfless love from someone I deeply admired.”
Callum smiled at the image of his mother on her wedding day, dressed finely and marrying well, but still paying homage to one who’d been so important to her. It was exactly the kind of gesture his mother was known for.
“I shall treasure this above all else, Mother, because it mattered to you,” Callum said softly, replacing it in its drawer.
“No, you must take it now. I don’t want anything to happen to it when I’m gone, and there may be those who don’t recognize its value. It could get lost, or discarded for being worth so little,” she explained.
“I will, Mother. I will keep it safe until the day it enhances my own bride’s beauty.” Callum lifted the back of his mother’s hand to his lips and kissed her. “Thank you for such a special gift, you who have already given me everything. It means the world to me.”
“You’re most welcome,” Jane whispered, wholly drained from their conversation. “Callum… son… I believe I’m ready for that medicine now…”
Chapter 3
“Father! What are you up to?” Beatrix cried out as she entered the room with more linens. Her father, only recently injured and still recovering, was leaning against a rough wooden chair and using it as a crutch, attempting to reach for his trousers on their peg.
“Be gone, girl!” her father joked. “You’re not supposed to see me like this!”
“What, in your night gown? I dare say, it looks mostly like every other person’s gown. ‘Tis no different!” she said, laughing and coming over to help her old father back to bed.
“No, I meant lookin’ like an invalid. I can’t be seen like this, shaking worse than a half-drowned kitten who’s been plucked outta the well.” He scowled, but then smiled adoringly when he caught sight of his daughter’s worried expression. “Ah, darling girl. You’re too good to yer old da. You shoulda put me out in the street long ago and left me for a beggar.”
“Fat
her, I won’t hear this talk again,” she said, letting him use her shoulder for leverage as he fell back against the straw tick mattress. “You’ve outlived a good number of men by plenty of years, to be sure, but you’re not in your grave just yet! And your leg will never heal right if you don’t stay off of it!”
“And you know this how, Dr. Beatrix?” he teased, a look of blessed relief on his face from easing the strain on his wound.
“That’s right, you and the boys should refer to me by my proper title after all the stitching and mending I’ve done on you lot!” Beatrix laughed again, her bright green eyes as merry as her ringing laughter. “I’ve sewed more people than garments all these years!”
“And not a one of us has been given to the grave thanks to your tending,” her father acknowledged. “But my girl, they’re coming here this day to plan our next hunt.”
“Father, you cannot be serious,” she answered, a look of horror on her face. “You’re not well! You haven’t recovered from the last hunt, and that one involved a lead ball to your leg!”
“Aye, I’m just lucky the idiot was as bad a shot as he was a bad coach driver!” her father said, laughing. “I’m sure he was aimin’ for me head! But dear girl, there’s no gang of outlaws feared as much as we, and there’s no Prince Aaron’s gang without a Prince Aaron presiding over it. It will take nothin’ for one of the men to smell my old age and weakness and seek to take my place. Then where will we be?”
Beatrix pulled over the chair her father had leaned on then sat facing him. Her tone was severe but kind as she answered. “Would it truly be so horrible as to not be Prince Aaron any longer? To simply be Mr. Riswell, loving father of Beatrix Riswell, widowed man about the village?”
Aaron looked at his daughter, taking in her earnest expression. He brushed back a strand of unruly brown hair and smiled. “It wouldn’t be ‘bad’ at all. ‘Twould be me worst nightmare!”
“Why, Father? I know your heart and I know the minds of these men. They could carry on your legacy and we could simply take to the countryside, living our days in relative comfort without the threat of the gallows constantly hanging over our heads. You’ve got enough money, have you not? Years of punishing those who abuse and steal from the lowest among us has made you not a wealthy man, but certainly one of comfortable means. Is your reputation as a fearsome villain really so important that you’d continue risking your life?”
“You don’t understand, girl,” he said gently. “When your mother died, I promised myself you would never want for anything. I’m most proud that I managed to educate you, even while raising you with the scum we call a family. But if I stop now, where does that leave you?”
“First, these men are not scum. I never knew my mother, but I’ve had more devoted attention and adoration than any child borne of a nobleman! And, even as you say, the chance to learn when so many children of our station live their entire lives in the weakness brought on by ignorance! It is a gift more valuable than any coin or jewel you manage to take in the night.”
Beatrix looked out the window that overlooked their small village. She smiled as she saw people going about their business, but also felt a pang of regret when she realized that all of their daily chores were within the bounds of the law.
“More importantly, I have everything I could ever want. I have a roof over my head, knowledge in my brain, and a father who would move the river if I told him it was in my way. That is all I want in this world, Father!” she cried.
“My girl, you paint a lovely picture, and I’m grateful to you for it,” Aaron said. “But there’s more to this life we live than having wealth. My girl, before you came along, I was… I was not the man you know me to be. I was a selfish, bloodthirsty cad, the worst kind of criminal who ever—”
“Father! It’s not true, you mustn’t speak of yourself this way!” Beatrix interrupted, but Aaron held up a hand to stop her.
“You must let me finish, girl. Even if it pains you to hear it. I was a ruthless, cold-hearted thief, nothing more. I’ve done horrible things, all for a coin. I could be bought for a price and did vicious deeds as a result. But you changed me, you and your mother. Now, I still do the only thing I know, the only thing I’m good at. But it’s all in service of others, do you see?”
Beatrix was thoughtful, the visions of her father’s gang in her mind. They’d done awful things, to be sure, but there was also an underlying sense of honor to it all. Aaron and his men were quick to spend some of what they’d taken in, whether it be bread from the local baker or cloth for garments from the local spinning woman. The prey they sought was always carefully chosen, and now she understood why.
“I know, Father. You only take from those who have too much.”
“That, of course,” Aaron explained. “But also those who’ve wronged others. The landlord who mercilessly doubled the rent, the lender who sets terrible rates that no man can ever repay. Even the church if they close their doors to the poor, denying the widows a piece of bread and the orphans a pair of discarded shoes. Those are my ‘victims,’ and I’ll make them pay until I’ve drawn my last breath.”
“It’s your last breath that I’m worried about!” Beatrix said, wringing her hands. “Whatever you’ve done wrong in the past, you’ve more than done your penance! You’ve righted those wrongs and have earned your retirement. Can’t you see? Father, I cannot let myself think about the next time Abrahms and Pencot carry you through the door, bleeding as though you’ve been sent to slaughter. Worse, needing a skilled physician but having only me to save you.”
“Daughter, you do a fine job. You’ve helped all of us at one time or another, and we’re all indebted to you,” her father replied. “I do understand your sadness, though. I will promise you this much. I will complete one more hunt with the boys, then I will strongly consider what you ask.”
“Father, send me in your stead,” Beatrix said, surprising both of them. Her father’s scowl only spurred her on. “To be fair, I know more than most about these hunts, and if the mark is as you say, then sending a simple girl in dire need could be just the ruse that helps pull it off.”
Aaron was quiet, studying his daughter while pondering her suggestion. Yes, there was certainly some merit in having a young girl like herself be the decoy. Who could resist helping a maiden in distress, perhaps one whose horse has thrown a shoe or who’s had to walk a treacherous path in the dark? But Aaron couldn’t bring himself to think of the consequences; if any hunt went poorly or they were double-crossed and found out, it was the hangman’s noose for all of them. Even Beatrix would not be spared, should she be involved.
“I don’t like it,” he said firmly. “Let me see how this leg mends by tonight when the others come over.”
“And if it’s not better?” Beatrix prodded. “You’ll let me stand in your place?”
“May chance. We’ll see,” Aaron said darkly. “But only after I know you’re fully prepared.”
In a week’s time, Callum’s mother had breathed her last and been buried in the churchyard after a brief but tender ceremony. Many people—both from the ton and the surrounding village—had loved her vivacious spirit and generous nature, and as such had come to pay their respects.
The Duke of Tarnton was inconsolable at the death of his wife, even after having so much time to prepare for the loss. Callum spent as much time as he could by his father’s side, but supporting another through their grief took its toll on him. Within days, he decided it was time to return to his estate and see to his affairs.
“Are the horses ready, Barclay?” Callum asked his valet after breakfast the day a week had passed.
“Yes, sir. I sent the request to the stable myself. The footmen will ride with us, and your friend, the Viscount Peter Grain, has offered to ride with our party as far as Starrton, where he will veer off and visit his sister and her husband.”
“Very good, Barclay. Please inform the group that I’ll be ready to leave upon the hour,” Callum said, nodding at his manser
vant before finishing readying his traveling case.
Callum went to the desk in his quarters and retrieved his mother’s prized hairpiece. Struck once again by its simplicity, he smiled at the notion of his mother pinning it alongside her wedding veil, one of her lady’s maids or aunts attending to her that day.
He thought to pack it in his trunk, but at the last minute, he replaced it in the small wooden case lined with velvet and put the whole case in his traveling bag. Though it was of nearly no value to anyone else, he felt the need to keep it nearby and chose to put it in his own bag.
“Sir, your father would like a word with you before you go. Otherwise, we’re prepared to leave whenever you choose,” Barclay said, reappearing in the doorway. Callum thanked him, then left to speak to his father before departing.
The Stolen Diadem of a Castaway Lady: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 2