“I don’t see it myself,” Jack said casually.
“Where is the estate?” Lydia asked, apart from the rush of pink on her cheeks, she displayed nothing but idle curiosity.
“Chesterton Park is less than a day’s ride from here. The earl only died recently. They’ve put caretakers in. The house and lands are to be sold,” Stapleton said.
“A sad story,” Jack said, fighting to sound calm while his head spun.
“Indeed,” Pleasance said, studying him closely, but he was too well mannered to question Jack further. He rose. “We shall take our leave.” He bowed with a flourish. “So good to meet you again, Mr. Stirling, Miss Bromley.”
Charles went with them to the door. “I’ll see you out, there’s something I wish to ask you, Pleasance. A thoroughbred I have my eye on at Tattersalls…” They retreated down the corridor.
Lydia rose and came to sit next to Jack on the sofa. She threaded her fingers with his. “Are you all right?”
“A little shocked. But hush, Lydia, we’ll talk later.”
She retreated to her chair.
The door opened and Hugo bounded into the room with Malik.
Charles took his seat again. “I should very much like to hear the full story,” he said. “If only you might remember it, Jack.”
“If only,” Jack said, ruefully.
“I’m inclined to believe it to be true,” her cousin said. “That you are the earl’s long-lost son. The question is, why you remain reluctant to claim your heritage.”
“First, I didn’t know I had one to claim,” Jack said. “And if Pleasance is right, it still appears far out of my reach.”
Lydia stared at him. Before he could prove it, he would place his neck in a noose. The authorities would soon discover he was a pirate.
Chapter Eighteen
The next day, Jack knew what he needed to do. “If it’s possible, I should like to see my childhood home, if indeed, it is my home.”
Charles nodded. “But of course. I shall call for the carriage. But first, luncheon.”
After a light meal of brawn and cold beef, salad, coffee, and garnet sugar cakes, that Malik enjoyed, the carriage took them to Chesterton Park which lay ten miles from Plymouth.
In the late afternoon, the sun retreated behind the clouds. Rain began to fall as they entered the elaborate gates. The grand, two-story stone mansion sat within a fine park of ancient trees. When they alighted, Lydia squeezed Jack’s hand reassuringly as they walked up the steps of the columned portico.
A grizzle-haired man opened the heavy oak door. He stared at them each in turn, his gaze returning to Jack. “The house is unoccupied. Who would you be wanting?”
Charles stepped forward. “This gentleman is Earl Chesterton’s son. Be good enough to show us the house.”
The caretaker opened his mouth and stared at Jack. “The earl’s son? That mean’s your….” He shook his head. “It cannot be, he died years ago.”
“But it is.” Charles pushed past him. They followed him inside.
The lofty grand hall echoed under their feet. They wandered through the reception rooms, the furniture under covers. Then into the magnificent library with the gilt-edged books still on the shelves.
Mr. Perkins, as he introduced himself, explained that all was to be sold. But perhaps not, for it was heartening news indeed to have the house occupied by a Chesterton again.
His past life suddenly flooded back as Jack walked through the rooms, the stark memories of the tragedy unfolding before him. As he watched helplessly as his mother lay dying, then the blame his father burdened him with. It was not his fault, he knew that. His mother had ridden ahead and taken the jump without any urging on his part. He had been in awe of her, however, and loved her dearly. The pain of her funeral, which his father insisted he attend, and then, when returning to the carriage, his father crying whilst berating him until he couldn’t bear it. He’d run away.
They stood before the marble staircase which swept to the upper floors. “I used to slide down that bannister,” he said to Lydia.
Her eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, Jack, you remember.”
He held out his hand. “Come with me.”
“I’ll wait here,” Charles called as Jack drew her up the stairs. They dallied in the long gallery where his ancestors and his father’s portrait hung. “You do look like him, Jack,” she said.
There was one of him, too, sitting with his mother. The sight of her lovely face made him fight off tears.
“She was beautiful,” Lydia said softly.
Jack cleared his throat. “Come, I’ll show you my bedchamber.”
It was just as he had left it. His favorite paintings of horses hanging on the walls. “I was horse mad. I had a pony called Jethro. I wonder where he is?” he asked. “Malik might like to ride him. Ponies live to a great age.”
“Then you’ve decided to stay,” Lydia said, her voice trembling.
Jack kissed her. “Pete will make a great captain.”
She placed a hand on his chest. “Yes, but, darling, I’m afraid for you.”
“You do see that I must try, Lydia.”
A sense of peace settled over him. At last he knew who he was. There were no blanks, he remembered the last years of his life with perfect clarity. This was their chance to be together. And maybe, despite everything, it was his chance to make something respectable of himself.
Lydia and Malik wandered the magnificent gardens with him, Charles in tow.
“They are well kept.” Lydia stopped to admire the rose arbor. “The garden beds have been recently weeded.”
Jack nodded. “Our head gardener was called Thomas. I wonder if he still lives.”
He led the way to the stables, knowing it would be empty. His father’s thoroughbreds long gone.
As they emerged from the lime walk onto the drive, a bowed fellow carrying a spade walked toward them.
Jack released Lydia’s hand and hurried forward. “Thomas!”
The gardener stopped in his tracks. He peered at Jack myopically. “Can it be you, Lord John? You’ve grown to be the dead spit of the earl.”
“Yes. Tis I.” Jack seized his gnarled hand and pumped it. “How good to see you, Thomas.”
“And you, sir. Alive I do declare!” His old eyes teared up, and he shook his head. “If only the earl, your father, lived to see it. He was a very sad man after you disappeared, if I may be so bold as to say so.”
It appeared his father had mourned him. Perhaps he’d come to regret his unfair treatment. Jack hadn’t wanted him to suffer. He understood what grief was, how it could send a person mad.
Lydia sensed his despair, and took his hand as they walked on to the stables. The smells of dust, saddle oil, and hay lingered in the air as she waited while Jack roamed the empty horse boxes, no doubt remembering the string of hunters which once occupied them. She could see the newfound knowledge of who he was had already brought about a change in him. He seemed more at peace. The earl he would become, if the fates decreed it. She took in a shuddering breath and sent another prayer to heaven.
“We need to be clever about this business,” Charles said, dusting his hands distastefully. “But let us return to the house and consider it.”
In the elegant blue and gold drawing room with it’s fine mirrors and paintings, they sat around the marble fireplace on velvet and gold damask-upholstered furniture. The caretaker’s wife provided them with tea and a freshly baked cake. Lydia, her nerves preventing her from eating a bite, took up the teapot and poured more tea into the delicate, painted china cups.
“It is necessary to act quickly, in case Pleasance stirs up trouble.” Charles took his cup and saucer from her and stirred in a sugar lump. “The first thing to do, obtain a Letter of Marque,” he said, taking a sip. “I know of someone who can help with that.”
Lydia tried to tamp down a rush of optimism. A Letter of Marque would ensure Jack would not immediately be flung into prison, but it still seemed so
uncertain.
“The king might see fit to refuse it,” Jack said. “He has before.”
“Not if one of his closest advisors suggests it be granted,” Charles said.
“But why will Jack need it once he is declared the earl?” she asked, her stomach churning. “He won’t return to sea.”
“A sensible decision,” Charles said, glancing around the fine room. “But we must legitimize what Jack has been doing these past years. He must also apply to the Committee of Privileges to confirm he is the rightful heir. They are usually thorough in these matters, but it will take some time.” He forked up a piece of the iced carrot cake. “This cake is delicious. I might steal the cook.”
“I agree with your plan, Charles,” Jack said. “But while the process goes through, we cannot stay here. I shall rent a house in the vicinity.”
“Nonsense. You will stay with my wife and me. But I do hope you intend to marry my cousin first,” Charles said faintly. “Caroline isn’t prudish, but she may draw the line at that.”
“You might have waited until I asked Lydia,” Jack said, turning with a smile that set Lydia’s heart racing. “I’m not sure she will have me.”
Lydia grinned foolishly at him.
“I believe she will.” Charles rose. “And as I find myself superfluous, I’ll take my leave.” He held out his hand to Malik. “Come, my lad. I believe there is a lake and ducks, perhaps the cook has something to feed them. We’ll give these two lovebirds a moment to themselves.”
Malik looked for reassurance at Lydia. She smiled and nodded.
When the door closed behind them, Jack joined her on the sofa. “Charles has stolen my thunder, curse the man.”
She reached up and stroked his jaw. “I can forgive him anything.”
“Yes, and I.” An arm around her, he kissed her. Taking a deep breath, he moved away. “But perhaps we should wait until it’s a fait accompli. If this doesn’t work out Lydia…”
“You won’t get out of it that easily,” she said with a laugh.
He sighed. “I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you. But never thought I was a worthy husband for you. I still don’t.”
“Oh, what nonsense you speak,” she murmured, placing a finger on his lips. “You are my one and only love.”
He slipped down and kneeled beside her. “I love you, Lydia. Will you marry me, my love?”
She reached down and drew him up to her. “Oh darling, of course I will.”
Epilogue
Chesterton Park, a year later.
As the door opened, Jack looked up from his desk where he sat with Branston, his estate manager. His adopted son, Malik, slipped inside with a sly grin, dirt on the knees of his breeches.
“Where is your tutor, Malik?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair.
Malik’s white teeth flashed. “I lost him. Professor Maudling is somewhere in the shrubbery. He was going on and on about the ancient Greeks.” He shrugged. “What possible good is that to me?”
Branston suddenly struggled with a coughing fit.
“I will be the judge of whether it’s good for you or not, Malik,” Jack said with a stern glance at Branston.
The newly christened Malik John Chesterton shuffled forward. “Papa, I’m too old for a pony now. And Jethro is getting old. Might I ride the roan?”
“Find your tutor. Learn enough about ancient Greek to put into a paragraph. Then come back and we’ll discuss it.”
With a grimace, Malik left the room rather more subdued than when he’d entered it.
“I had thought it better to keep him here, but I wonder if I should send the lad to Harrow before he enters university.” Jack rubbed the scar on his temple.
As it was more of a rhetorical question, Branston wisely didn’t offer an answer.
The door opened again. Jack threw down the papers he’d begun to read again with a look of impatience. “Doesn’t anyone knock in this house?” His frown smoothed away at the charming sight of Lady Chesterton dressed in a becoming gown of purple and cream stripes.
“You may go, Branston,” he said, his eyes on his wife.
Branston gathered the papers, and with a small bow, left the room.
Lydia crossed the Axminster carpet. Smiling, she trailed a finger along the carved edge of the desk and came to stand beside him.
“You are after something,” Jack said with a wry smile.
“Am I so obvious?” she asked, frowning a little.
He patted his lap. “You are. I can read you like a book.”
“Oh! You cannot! You are teasing…”
Jack grabbed her and pulled her onto his lap, circling her waist with his arms to stop her escape. He nibbled her ear. “I am teasing, you are completely bewildering. It is one of the things I most love about you.”
Lydia laughed and kissed him.
He placed his cheek against hers, a hand on her breast. “You’d best tell me what it is you want, Lydia, or we’ll end up scandalizing the staff by making love on the carpet.”
“There’s a very comfortable couch over by the window,” she said helpfully.
He chuckled and pushed her off his lap as his body grew far too interested in the prospect. “You are shameless.”
Her eyes widened. “I believe I am.”
“I am entirely in approval,” Jack said with a wicked grin. He folded his arms. “I have a lot of work to do, my sweet. This estate doesn’t run itself. I’m glad my father did teach me something about estate matters, but there’s so much for me yet to learn.”
“You are doing splendidly.”
“I have excellent staff.”
She put a hand on the slight bulge of her belly, then slipped into the chair opposite. “I shall need to engage a nanny and nursery staff soon.”
“Are you feeling well, my love?” He searched her face. She appeared to be in the bloom of health. He’d never seen her more beautiful.
“I am perfectly well. I should like to ride this afternoon.”
He frowned. “You know my wishes on that front.”
“I am aware of it, darling.”
He nodded, realizing the futility of such an argument. He would let her have her way for the time being. “I shall accompany you. Malik, too. He’s complaining about being forced to learn Greek.”
“He doesn’t like being cooped up. You can understand it, Jack. He wants to ride the roan.”
“So he has informed me.”
“He really is a competent rider. He’ll be as good as you in time.”
“Yes, I’m sure he will be.”
“I know why you’re reluctant, darling. It’s because of your mother, and your father’s unfair accusation that you caused her to fail at that jump.”
Jack’s chest tightened at the memory. His beloved mother, so irrepressible and filled with life, sometimes to the point of recklessness. His father had struggled to control her ebullience at times. Jack had come to realize his father blamed himself for her death, because she had warned him she’d take that jump, and he did not accompany them on that fateful day.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Lydia whispered, coming to stroke his cheek. “I know it hurts you to think about it.”
He took her hand and kissed it. “Not so much now. And you’re right, Malik should have a mount of his own. It will teach him to care for it. I’ll engage an instructor for him.”
“You’re going to be such a good father to your heir,” she said mistily, wiping away a tear.
“My daughter,” he said firmly. “And later, my heir and the spare of course….”
“My goodness!” She threw up her hands and made for the door. Blowing him a kiss, she left the room.
Jack gazed out the window at the breeze ruffling the leaves of a chestnut tree. It had been quite a year. Their rushed wedding with Charles and Caroline as their witnesses. Then the wait at Bromley Court for news. The Letter of Marque was finally issued. The newspapers got wind of it, but their telling of the story was entirely inacc
urate. In their account, Jack had become a corsair in service of the Crown during England’s spat with Spain.
Jack sent a man to the Azores to pay his kind servants handsomely and leave a letter for Pete for when the Golden Orion called in there again.
Lydia asked him if he missed the life. At times he did, but did not long for it. His life was very full now.
Some months after he’d sent the letter, Oskar was delivered in his cage along with a battered crate containing Jack’s books and his other keepsakes, his chess set, and his telescope, which Malik promptly claimed as his own. Jack didn’t know how Pete had managed it, or how he fared, for no letter accompanied it. He liked to think of him standing on the poop deck enjoying his time as captain. For he surely would be, and a very fine one indeed.
While Malik was delighted with the bird, Charles couldn’t stand it. “It’s foul-mouthed,” he cried, outraged after Oskar uttered a string of expletives. “We can’t have it in the same room with ladies.”
Jack thought the ladies quite enjoyed Oskar, he made them giggle, but he was relegated to Malik’s chamber.
It took six months for the Committee of Privileges to confirm his earldom. Then another three months to hire staff, find some of their old retainers, and make repairs to the rundown mansion. He’d left Lydia to deal with that side of things, engaging a housekeeper and so forth. She was in her element having run a house before and seemed to enjoy it. He was thankful that it now ran like clockwork.
Colorful stories still abounded. Mystery continued to surround them which made them an attractive couple for hostesses, their social calendar always too full for his liking.
But Lydia enjoyed it all, London, the balls, soirees, and entertaining guests. She’d been so long kept from society, he put up no objections. But he would enjoy some peace during her lying-in. If she agreed to one! But what he knew of Lydia, he had reason to doubt it.
Seduced by the Pirate Page 13