The Blood Is the Life

by Sharon K Gilbert

  “So are tigers, darling. Let’s spend some time with our cousin, shall we? He looks lonely.” Paul led his sister towards the punch bowl, where a footman poured two cups of the citrus and cranberry beverage. “Charles, where’s your bride?” he asked as he and Della took seats near the fireplace.

  “Closeted with our aunt.”

  The duke entered, chatting with Frederick and Margaret Winstone. “We’re all in here,” he was saying, “but we’ll be moving on to the ballroom shortly. Mrs. Winstone, have you met the Russian royal family? The tsar couldn’t make it, but he sent his son and several cousins, including Prince Anatole Romanov. The prince is very powerful in St. Petersburg, you know. And I hear that many others begin to arrive. The Dukes of Marlborough and Edinburgh, the Prime Minister—but also Cartringham, Boughton, and a whole roster of high-ranking dignitaries from all across Europe. I believe they’re gathering in the ballroom, or perhaps it’s the gallery. Booth would know. Booth!” he called.

  The butler appeared as if by magic. “Your Grace?”

  “Booth, old man, Mr. and Mrs. Winstone are to be escorted to the special room upstairs. Has the Russian party arrived yet? No? Well, I’m sure there are lots of highbrows there already—no doubt enjoying the refreshments.”

  Margaret was practically drooling, and Sir Albert had already gone ahead of the butler towards the ‘special’ receiving area in the upper level gallery. The duke joined his nephews.

  “You’ll need to keep an eye on that baronet,” he told the earl. “I doubt the Winstones have any idea of the true extent of his debts, but I’m told gambling is his more charming side. The rest of his vices might even make him eligible for a set of bracelets in Her Majesty’s cells at Newgate.”

  Charles sighed, casting his eyes on Della, who sat alone near the window. “I’d dearly love to throttle that man, but it may not be wise to speak of him here. Young hearts break easily. And speaking of hearts, have you seen any sign of my wife?” he asked, breaking into a wide smile. “Oh, I do love calling her that.”

  The duke took a cup of punch from the footman. “Thank you, Wilson. Beth should join us directly, son. I think my sister had some motherly advice to pass along. She’d planned on giving that speech this morning, but Beth slept in—or so Tory tells it. Is our girl all right? She looks a bit pale to me.”

  Charles and Paul sat in matching armchairs, the smooth motion so similar that the duke began to laugh. “You two are certainly alike at times!”

  The cousins exchanged glances and each crossed his left leg over the right, as if on cue. “I don’t know what you mean,” Aubrey said with a grin. “So,” he continued turning to his cousin, “is Beth all right?”

  “She is—at least I think she is. Her dress has tightened slightly since Friday. Apparently, our son or daughter has decided to commence a growing spurt. That aside, Beth’s feeling better than she has in some time.”

  “Good,” both Stuarts said in unison, and this time it was Charles who laughed.

  “We truly are a family, that much is certain!” he said happily. “Oh, before I forget, James, I want to thank you for the wedding gift. The box of Beth’s letters is a treasure trove. I’ve not yet read the diaries, but I shall once I’ve the time. Thank you, sir.”

  The duke drained the punch cup in two gulps, swiping at moustache. “Needs whisky. You’re welcome, Charles, but that box is but a part of the gift. You’ll find in your stables, four matched Friesian horses, and your carriage house contains a new Frey landau with five windows. I’ve had a new crest painted on it, as well and all the other coaches you and Beth will use. The design represents the combined Branham and Haimsbury Houses. The House of Lords heraldic committee approved, and Her Majesty used the new design on the dinnerware she gave you. That old woman surely loves Beth. She also had a soft spot for your father once.”

  Charles smiled as he touched his uncle’s forearm. “Thank you, James. A new crest? I can think of nothing that symbolises my love for Beth better—except for children, of course.”

  Drummond’s black eyes began to dance. “Now you’re talking! And I canno’ wait ta teach that new great-grandson how ta fish and ride a horse.”

  “And what if that great-grandson turns out to be a great-granddaughter?” Paul asked, laughing.

  James Stuart shrugged. “Then, I’ll teach her to do all those things. Did I not teach our Beth to do them? Charles, your wife is the finest horsewoman in the entire kingdom. She even beat your cousin in a race when she was only twelve. There’s a photograph of her with the trophy to prove it.”

  “I’m sorry to admit it’s all true, Charles,” Aubrey confessed. “Elizabeth can make horses do anything she wishes, and because she’s light as a feather, she takes jumps as if flying!”

  “I’ll look for that photograph when we go to Branham next month, but seeing Beth ride again will have to wait until the end of next summer.”

  The duke nodded. “Aye, it will, but isn’t it worth it?” he asked with a grin. “Children are the best of blessings, son. Ah, here comes the champion horsewoman now.”

  The three men stood, for Elizabeth had returned, her train removed, and the long veil replaced with just the coronet. The new wedding ring sparkled alongside the pink diamond upon her hand, and she gazed at Charles with adoring eyes. The marquess walked towards her, recalling how the little duchess had stood in that very spot ten years before—mourning the loss of her mother, dressed in somber clothes. How things had changed!

  He took her into his arms. “I love you, Mrs. Sinclair,” he said, kissing her lips.

  She blushed slightly, her face glowing. “And I love you, too, my darling husband. And I love my new name! Mrs. Sinclair. You may call me that again and again, Captain,” she continued as he walked her through the foyer towards the staircase. “Ah, but we have many people to greet, and the queue has already begun to form. Once we’ve shaken all their hands and listened to all their good wishes and reminiscences, I’m told we’ll have a break for a light meal. Afterward, we’ll endure many hours of dancing and lots more handshaking, and probably an endless stream of stories about our parents, but that all ends when we depart for Queen Anne at eight. Grandfather has deviously told his staff to keep the party going until long after you and I depart. Then following the family celebration, you and I shall leave for our new home.”

  “I like that last part the best,” he whispered as he bent to kiss her once more. “All right, Mrs. Sinclair, the sooner we begin, the sooner we leave, correct?”

  “Correct,” she laughed, and the duke accompanied his granddaughter and nephew up the broad staircase that led to the mansion’s grand ballroom.

  The newlyweds arrived to a room packed with peers, princes, ministers, bankers, and all the nouveau riche merchants and businessmen of the kingdom. Charles kept close to his new bride, shaking hundreds of hands as a long queue formed near the orchestra stand.

  At the head of the line stood a balding man with a grizzled beard and regal bearing. He smiled as he approached Elizabeth, bowing slightly. “My dear Duchess,” he said fondly. “May I offer my sincerest congratulations and best wishes to you and your new husband?”

  Beth smiled as the portly man kissed her hand. “Thank you, Prime Minister. Allow me to introduce that husband to you, though it is quite possible you’ve already met, seeing that he is with Scotland Yard, for the moment, at least. Lord Salisbury, this is my husband, Superintendent Charles Sinclair, Lord Haimsbury.”

  The prime minister shook Charles’s hand. “A pleasure to see you again, Superintendent. Duchess, your husband may not recall it, but I have met with him several times previously. Congratulations on finding your heritage. I assume your resignation is because of this this new ICI venture you and Aubrey have begun with Drummond. If you’ll meet with me soon, I hope to convince you to take an official position with government. If you must give up your rank as superintendent, allow m
e to replace with something that makes use of your police experience but allows you to serve a higher cause.”

  “Commissioner Monro mentioned something to that effect, Prime Minister. I’d be pleased to discuss it, but only if it doesn’t require travel outside England. I prefer to stay close to London, in fact.”

  “It will permit you to live in London, if you wish,” Salisbury said.

  “Then, I’m interested. And I do recall those first meetings with you, sir, though I was rather young at the time, and I believe brashly outspoken.”

  The prime minister laughed, his beard shaking along with his chin. “So you were! Duchess, your new husband had the audacity to barge into my office when I was Secretary of State for India—oh, I suppose it was back in ’77 or so—and he insisted I address a problem with a crime involving Indian immigrants in Whitechapel. He was quite indignant about the whole thing as I recall, but he made a positive impression on me, nonetheless. Your husband is like a dog with a bone, when he’s passionate about a thing.”

  Charles laughed. “Yes, well, I was rather full of myself in those days. Beth, I received a painful dressing down from the police commissioner for my effort, but Lord Salisbury was kind enough to lend a hand, and we arrested the men involved. One suspect had very high connexions to Indian royalty, you see, and the Foreign Office couldn’t help meddling. If I never thanked you for your aid, sir, I do so now.”

  Salisbury bowed. “My pleasure. Do you intend to serve in the House of Lords, Charles?”

  Beth took her husband’s arm and shook her head. “Allow me to answer, Charles. Robert, do you recall what I once told you about that august membership?” she asked, calling the prime minister by his Christian name. “You told me that as a female, I could not serve in the House of Lords, but that my husband might do so, and…”

  “And you said that if you could not serve, then neither would he. Charles, your wife was thirteen at the time and quite passionate about politics. I regret not allowing her to serve. I imagine Elizabeth’s input would have aided our country and perhaps kept us from many errors of judgement.”

  “Well said,” she replied with a bright smile.

  The prime minister moved along, and a tall young man stepped forward to take his place. His features were strong and classically handsome with large eyes and a thin moustache. He wore striped trousers and a morning coat. He took Beth’s hand, holding it firmly.

  “Elizabeth, you make a smashing bride. It’s a shame this wasn’t a royal wedding.”

  “Thank you for coming, Eddy,” she said. “Charles, allow me to introduce His Royal Highness, Prince Albert Victor, Duke of Clarence.”

  Sinclair bowed slightly, and the young man shook the marquess’s hand. “Good to meet you at last, Haimsbury.”

  “It’s an honour, Your Highness,” Charles said, bowing.

  The prince laughed. “No need for that, old man! I concede defeat to you. My grandmother has always loved your wife dearly, as have I. May your lives together be blessed and filled with joy. I hope to see you at my club.”

  “Thank you, Your Highness. That means a great deal to both of us.”

  The prince leaned in to whisper something to Beth, which caused her to smile, and she kissed his cheek. “I hope the same for you, Eddy,” she said, and the prince moved on.

  “What did he say?” Charles asked.

  She squeezed his hand. “He said he’s glad I found true happiness, even though it isn’t with him. Eddy’s a soft-hearted man and very sweet. The press often makes great fun of him, but the reporters have no idea the struggles he’s had to endure.”

  “Such as?”

  “Eddy’s father is quite demanding. I cannot say more than that.”

  He let it go, continuing to greet dukes, earls, bankers, and the like, noting that the number of those awaiting never seemed to lessen. The long queue continued for over two hours as each person offered congratulations and best wishes along with endless anecdotes. Finally, at half past one, the couple escaped for a short meal in the dining hall with family and a few special guests.

  Charles noticed Beth’s colour had paled, and she had little to eat. “If nothing appeals, darling, I’m sure the duke’s cook will be happy to make you something else.”

  Elizabeth sipped a cup of weak tea and took a few bites of bread and cheese. “Sorry, husband, I’m simply unable to eat any more,” she whispered. “It is all I can do to keep down what little breakfast I ate.”

  He squeezed her hand. Amelia had never suffered from morning sickness as he remembered, at least not that he noticed. Charles now wondered if he’d ever truly loved his first wife. Had he merely married her because it seemed the right thing to do? Certainly, back then, his heart held nothing close to the deep emotion it did now.

  “I’ll take you home, if you wish it, darling. You’ve only to speak the word.”

  She shook her head, smiling at Adele who waved as she entered the room from the crowded hallway. “No, I can make it. I just need to be careful.” Her cheeks whitened, and she stood suddenly. “You must excuse me for a moment. I need air.”

  She left by the side door, and Charles rushed after, taking her hand. “I’m not to let you out of my sight, Beth.”

  “I’m so hot, Charles. A moment in the day’s chill is all I need,” she said, and he led her out the rear doors and into a large garden, where their passage was impeded by a dozen well-wishers and glad-handers taking a shortcut from the solarium to the main dining hall.

  One was Edmund Reid.

  “Congratulations to you both!” he called as he pumped his colleague’s hand. “Your Grace, are you all right? You’re very pale. Too much excitement, perhaps.”

  “Yes, I’m all right, Inspector Reid. Just a trifle warm. Too many people. Do you think it will snow?” she asked.

  Her question caught him by surprise. “I’m told it will likely hold off through Tuesday, but shipping forecasts are often inaccurate. I think we’re safe until tomorrow, though.”

  She appeared relieved. “Thank goodness! Is Mrs. Reid with you?”

  “She is. Emily’s chatting with your aunt, in fact. I know it’s none of my business, but you appear a trifle off balance, Duchess. May I help?”

  “No, I’m…I’m really just overly warm,” she insisted, but her gait was unsteady.

  Charles kept watch on her eyes, which had taken on a listless appearance. “Beth, I insist you sit down. Edmund, would you mind going with us? I believe there’s a side entrance to the conservatory just over here, beyond the fountain.”

  Reid took a position in front and parted the crowd as the married couple followed the cobbled pathway to a large white door, opened by Mr. Harold, the duke’s underbutler. “Come in, my lady, my lord. Is the duchess unwell? Shall I fetch Mrs. Dalborough?”

  “My wife grows weary, Harold. Would you mind standing outside to ensure our privacy?”

  “Not at all, sir,” the stout young man replied, disappearing through the exterior door.

  “This way, darling. Sit here,” her husband said.

  Elizabeth dropped onto a wicker sofa, padded by sumptuous pillows and fabrics. A centrally placed fireplace had been lit, and the cheerful blaze warmed the floor tiles, but the afternoon sun had begun to disappear behind a bank of thick clouds, leaving the conservatory somewhat chilly.

  “Rest here for a moment. Is the room too cold?”

  “Not at all. It feels wonderful, actually,” she answered, fanning herself with her hand. “Charles, can you help me with this coronet? It’s quite heavy, and my poor neck is about to break.”

  He removed the combs that held the magnificent crown in place and handed all to Reid. “Better?”

  Edmund set the combs and coronet on a nearby table. “Though the air’s chilly, she looks flushed,” he told Sinclair. “Emily had troubles like this with both our children in the early
weeks. Perhaps, a glass of punch or tonic water would help.”

  Beth shook her head. “That will only make it worse, I fear. Peppermint tea sounds better, if Mrs. Carson has any.”

  “I’ll have a footman bring it right away,” Reid said, casting a worried look at Charles.

  The inspector left to find a servant, and Charles turned towards his wife. “Beth, let me take you home. I’m sure everyone would understand.”

  “No, Charles, I’d rather stay, but would you mind if I rest my head on your shoulder, only for a few minutes?”

  “You may rest it there for a lifetime,” he whispered. “Put your feet up, darling. Those shoes look uncomfortable.”

  “I’d love to, but if I remove them, I shan’t want to put them on again. They fit fine this morning, but grow tighter just as my clothing now does. Getting off my feet helps, though.”

  He smiled. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we? I’d never pictured Prince Albert Victor as being so nice, but he is. Do you regret not marrying him?”

  “Eddy’s a lovely man, but I prefer being Mrs. Sinclair, thank you very much. Charles, you do know that you’ve made me the happiest woman alive?”

  “I hope you’ll always feel that way, little one. Did you sleep well last night? The ball seemed to take a lot out of you.”

  “Not especially well, but I’ll sleep tonight.”

  “Will you?” he teased, and she looked up at him, her cheeks pinking. “I see that you know what I mean,” he said, stroking her soft face.

  “I imagine I do,” she replied. “How many children shall we have, Captain? Two? Four? The queen has nine children. Shall we try to outdo her?”

  Charles laughed. “My darling, I’m content with just the one for now. Let’s see him or her safely born, and then if you wish for more, we’ll do our best to achieve it.”

  “How wonderful to imagine this child, Charles. Do you think he or she will be tall? I hope so. Nearly everyone in both our families is tall, so it’s likely.”