Far Beyond Rubies

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Far Beyond Rubies Page 22

by Rosemary Morris


  When she awoke, she yawned, stretched, and then rang the hand bell for Sukey, who slept in the tiny closet adjacent to her bedchamber.

  The door opened and Sukey hurried into the room. She bobbed a curtsey. “Yes, madam?”

  Juliana eyed her with approbation. Neat clothes, good food, and country air had greatly improved her little maidservant. “I have a good appetite this morning. Please fetch my hot chocolate and some bread and butter without the slightest delay.”

  “When I have done so, shall I lay out your riding habit or are you going to walk today, madam?”

  “Neither, send for my sister. Oh, I should have asked you to have the tray set for two people, and to make sure bowls of honey and conserve are on it. My sister has a sweet tooth which, for once, I shall indulge.”

  Sukey bustled away.

  Within minutes, Henrietta, garbed in an oversized nightgown with a trailing, multi-coloured shawl around her shoulders, burst into Juliana’s bedchamber pursued by Grace, who reprimanded her for not waiting to change her clothes before running to Juliana’s bedchamber.

  As Henrietta had done so many times in the past, she jumped onto Juliana’s bed to smother her with kisses.

  “Gently, sweetheart,” Juliana protested, but laughed and cuddled the child.

  “Mistress Henrietta, give over plaguing your sister with your silly ways,” Grace scolded, although smiles garlanded her round, rosy face.

  The years, thought Juliana, had been kind to Nurse. Her girth had increased slightly, but her greying hair was as thick as ever, and her face remained comparatively unlined for a woman of fifty-odd years.

  Juliana pointed to a chair near the bed. “Would you like to sit, Nurse?”

  “Yes please, for I won’t deny that as I get older, it’s a pleasure to take the weight off my feet, but before I do so, let me give you this. I’ve carried it around all these many months, and a sore burden it has been as well. Your father gave it to me on the very day he died.” Nurse handed over a sealed letter, as though it were solid gold, and then she subsided onto a chair, arranging her full, fawn-coloured broadcloth skirts as she did so.

  Astonished, Juliana remembered Henrietta remained at Riverside House while Nurse answered an urgent summons to London to help look after Father.

  Sukey returned, a silver tray balanced in her hands.

  “Please put the tray on the table.” Juliana swung her legs over the edge of the bed. “You may serve my sister before you withdraw.” She slipped her feet into a pair of pretty slippers.

  “Nurse, why did you not give my father’s letter to me before?” Juliana asked after Sukey left the bedchamber.

  “How could I give it to you? Within hours of your father’s death, the new Lord Kemp sent me away. Oh, I left word for you so you’d know where I was, but I dared not contact you after the threats your vermin of a half-brother made. When you sent Henrietta to me, I didn’t know where you were. So here’s his lordship’s letter. And here’s the one you sent for me to give to the parson if you didn’t come to us within the year.” Nurse stood and handed Juliana both missives.

  Still seated on the edge of the feather mattress, Juliana broke the seal and read her father’s letter. She read it again and then a third time. As she scrutinised it, she wanted to shout her triumph. Here, in her hands, was the proof of Father’s true intentions. Juliana sprang up, grabbed her dressing gown, and then pulled it on over her nightgown. She would have left her bedchamber immediately if Nurse had not insisted on brushing her hair.

  Henrietta looked up, her face smeared with butter and honey. “Where are you going, Juliana? I want to tell you something.”

  Juliana paused to kiss the top of the child’s head. “Later, sweetheart, we shall speak later.”

  * * * *

  In a flurry, Juliana hurried to Gervaise’s apartment. Outside it she rapped impatiently on the door.

  Peter opened it. “Hush, madam, his lordship is still asleep,” he whispered, pursed his mouth, and then put his finger to it.

  Juliana pushed her hair back over her shoulders. “Wake him.”

  “Wake him?” the valet repeated her words. “Disturb him? No, I can’t do that.” He made it sound as if she had committed an act of sacrilege. “My master has had no more than a few hours’ sleep.”

  When Peter began to close the door, Juliana slipped past him through the gap. “I shall rouse him,” she declared.

  “No, no, madam, I can’t permit you to.”

  “Then do as I say. Tell your master I am here on a matter of great urgency.”

  Juliana frowned, she could not blame Peter for doing his duty, but he would not dare to use bodily force to put her out of the room. She paused and seated herself on a chair in Gervaise’s private closet where he received visitors. “Please do as I ask,” she requested in a softer tone.

  In spite of the closed door between the small room, in which she sank onto a chair, and Gervaise’s adjacent bedchamber, she heard Gervaise’s sharp protest.

  After a short delay, he joined her. With admiration tinged with curiosity, she stared first at his disordered hair tied back carelessly, and then at his resplendent scarlet dressing gown.

  Gervaise rubbed his sleepy eyes. When he looked at her they widened. Her cheeks warmed in response to a fiery light which appeared in his eyes. “Mistress Kemp,” he said deliberately, “you know better than to invade a gentleman’s apartment in your night attire.”

  “I shall fetch your morning chocolate, my lord,” Peter said and hurried off down the corridor.

  “What are you thinking of?” Gervaise said as soon as he had gone. “Coming to my apartment garbed thus will give rise to the very gossip I want to avoid.” He paused, his colour much heightened. “We can only hope Peter will not jabber about it to the rest of the servants.”

  She held out the letter. “After you read this, Gervaise, I am sure you will excuse my intrusion. In the meantime, I will go and dress while you make yourself ready for us to present it to Her Majesty. Afterwards,” she continued, with great contentment, “we shall deal with William and Ravenstock.”

  After Gervaise took the letter from her, he raised his eyebrows. “We?”

  She nodded and swept out of the room with as much dignity as she could muster. None but the drapes and candlesticks in her room should see her dancing up and down with little shouts of joy.

  * * * *

  Thoughtful, Gervaise breakfasted in his closet before he dressed in a chestnut brown suit and cream silk waistcoat embroidered with gold. When he could eat no more, he went to his book room, and then sent a servant to request Juliana to join him there.

  Dressed in a blush pink and cream striped gown, matching bodice, and cream petticoat, Juliana stepped into the room, gazing at him with an anxious expression in her eyes.

  Gervaise stood and then bowed to her. How pretty she looks, he thought while saying, “Please be seated, Juliana.”

  A frown between her eyebrows, Juliana sat down opposite his large oak desk behind which he took his seat.

  “Mistress Kemp, I am yours to command, but I would fail you if I did not advise against petitioning Queen Anne until we have irrefutable evidence of Ravenstock’s hold over Lord Kemp.”

  Juliana’s frown deepened. “Do you know what that hold is?”

  “Yes, with the help of paid informants, I have pieced a sorry tale together,” he said, proud of the progress he had made before Juliana gave him the letter written by her dying father, but not yet ready to divulge what he had found out.

  “Please tell me all you know.” A glimmer of hope appeared in the depths of her beautiful, dark eyes.

  “You must be patient,” he replied. “I have summoned my brother-by-law Lord Carr, as well as Lord and Lady Kemp, Mr Yelland, their attorney, and Ravenstock, to join us this evening at six of the clock. I trust the whole truth will emerge during our meeting.” He smiled at Juliana, confident that all of his carefully prepared ploys would succeed. “I have reason to hope Ri
verside will be restored to you, and, in accordance with your father’s wishes, you will become Henrietta’s guardian, only accountable to the trustees your father appointed for both of you.” His smile thinned his lips, giving him the look of a predator about to strike. “I shall deal retribution to Lord Kemp and Ravenstock.”

  Her eyebrows arched. “How?”

  He picked up the yellowed scroll, tied with pink ribbon, from which at least a dozen red seals dangled. “With this.”

  “I do not understand. It seems to me you are playing some deep game in which you hold the only hand?”

  “What else?” he asked. “Now, tell me if you are for me.”

  “Do you not know I am always with you bound by gratitude,” Juliana replied, in the voice he loved so much it frequently gave him goosebumps, her face innocent of guile.

  He sighed, he wanted much more than gratitude from her, did he not?

  Chapter Seventeen

  At six of the clock, Juliana entered the book room where the butler ushered her to a seat at the right hand side of Gervaise’s desk.

  She sat down, her hands so tightly clasped that their knuckles gleamed. What would happen this evening?

  When Mr Yelland arrived, Wilson guided him to his seat at the left of Gervaise’s chair. “Good day, Mistress Kemp,” the attorney greeted her.

  After Mr Yelland sat down, Wilson ushered first Ravenstock, and then William and Sophia to chairs which faced the desk.

  A few moments later, Gervaise arrived with Ralph. Without looking right or left, Gervaise stood behind his large oak desk, and then bowed.

  He is magnificent, Juliana thought, appreciating the perfection of his silver-grey suit and the diamonds on his fingers which sparked fire.

  Ralph stood near the door while lackeys offered a choice of cherry ratafia, Madeira, and red viana, as well as thin, sweet biscuits, dotted with caraway seeds.

  After everyone was served, Gervaise dismissed the servants with a flick of his wrist, and wasted not a moment more. “My lords, ladies, and gentleman, I have much to divulge.”

  Juliana gave all her attention to Gervaise, who withdrew three scrolls tied with pink ribbon from a drawer, and then aligned them on the desk beside several papers. With one hand resting on them, he regarded her half-brother. “Lord Kemp, these documents are of interest to you.”

  She looked across the space between the solid desk and the chairs facing it. Her half-brother shifted on his seat before he spoke. “If you have the audacity to summon me here for a charade, Beaumaris, I protest.” In spite of his bold words, William stared at the documents on the desk with what Juliana could only describe as horrid fascination.

  She clenched her fists. No power on earth would force her to return to William with Henrietta. She glanced at Gervaise again. How calm and self-possessed he was.

  “Ralph,” Gervaise began, “do you agree a true gentleman is one who never knowingly causes pain to another?”

  Ralph nodded.

  “Should Kemp, who sought to rid himself of his half-sisters within hours of his father’s death, be described as an honourable man?”

  “No!” Ralph responded.

  “I am glad we agree.” Gervaise bowed to his guests. “The baron ill-treated your wife’s protégées, Mistress Kemp and Mistress Henrietta. I first met Mistress Kemp when she fled from her half-brother and was about to send her young sister to a safe place.”

  Ugly red crept up Sophia’s neck and into her cheeks. She sprang to her feet pointing a bony finger at Gervaise. “I protest! My husband is not under an obligation to provide for his father’s bastards. Moreover, may I remind you, Beaumaris, my father-by-law made no provisions for either Juliana or Henrietta in his will.”

  Juliana scowled. “Lies. We are not illegitimate.”

  Gervaise turned his head and smiled at her reassuringly. “Please remain calm, Mistress Kemp. The many wrongs committed against you will soon be avenged.”

  Sophia squinted venomously at Juliana. “Out of the kindness of his heart, my husband secured employment for you at a respectable boarding school, and he placed Henrietta in Mrs Tutchin’s school for young ladies. The very one my cousins attended.”

  Gervaise’s lips curled as he looked down his nose. “Lady Kemp, you shock me. Was Riverside House not large enough to accommodate two grief-stricken young ladies? Now, please be seated.”

  “My lord, we are under no compulsion to remain and suffer this treatment!” Sophia exclaimed to her husband, although she subsided onto her chair.

  William shook his head and whispered something to her.

  Ravenstock raised an eyebrow. “I do not know why you summoned me. Before I expire from curiosity, please come to the point, Beaumaris.”

  With an unhurried movement, Gervaise handed two papers to Mr Yelland. “I trust you all know Kemp’s man of business, Mr Yelland, a much respected lawyer at Lincoln’s Inn?”

  Mr Yelland stood. He bowed as low as his girth allowed.

  “Now, sir, please read the sworn affidavits and then inform my guests of their contents,” Gervaise said.

  William and Sophia, Juliana thought, are either so curious or so fearful of the truth being revealed that they scarce draw breath, but why has Gervaise summoned Ravenstock?

  “The first affidavit,” began Mr Yelland, “is from Doctor Anstey, the clergyman who officiated at the wedding of the late Lord Kemp and Marguerite de Hautville. The second is from a witness to the wedding, Anne-Marie Fermierre, a maid in the employment of Mistress Kemp’s maternal aunt, Madame Sarrazin.”

  “Thank you, Mr Yelland, you may be seated.” Gervaise frowned at William. “What have you to say, Kemp?”

  “Lies. I shall dismiss Anstey from his living. There is no record of the marriage.”

  Juliana glared at William. “Only because the pages in the family Bible and the parish register were removed. What is more, I can guess who the culprit is.” Juliana was pleased because she managed to control her rage.

  “Ralph, is it not strange that the page, with the dates pertinent to the marriage, has been removed from the Bible?” Gervaise asked.

  Juliana glanced at Ravenstock, magnificent in purple and pale yellow, which emphasised his good looks. He sat still as a statue, regarding a ring set with an opal on his well-manicured forefinger.

  Gervaise handed the affidavits to Mr Yelland. “Please scrutinise these on your client’s behalf.” He inclined his head to Juliana. “And now, it is time for me to recall the occasion on which I first met Mistress Kemp in more detail.

  “I was on my way to Beaumaris House when, at the post house in St. Albans—where I sojourned—I agreed to a dying man’s request to deliver a letter addressed to Baron Kemp at Riverside House.

  “To my delight, I met Mistress Kemp.” He bowed to her. “I asked her to deliver the letter, but she did not know if it was addressed to her late father or her half-brother. However, at that time she had more pressing concerns, so she did not read it before she fled to London.”

  Gervaise picked up one of the papers on his desk. “I shall now read the most significant sentence.

  “‘You may trust the bearer of this letter with your life for he will never betray our rightful king.’” Eyebrows raised, Gervaise looked at his audience. “It is obvious the reference is to the Pretender, who King Louis of France acknowledged as the third James. However, the important question is: To whom was the letter addressed?”

  “Gervaise,” Ralph commenced, “why did you not place the matter in the hands of the authorities?”

  “Because we did not know for whom the letter was intended,” Juliana said, unable to tolerate even a hint of criticism of Gervaise.

  Ralph raised his eyebrows. “I presume there is more to the matter.”

  “Much more.” Gervaise stared at Ravenstock, who still held his hand to the light scrutinising his opal ring.

  Gervaise put the letter down and picked up the yellowed scroll to which many red seals were attached. “Mistress Kemp, wit
h your permission, I shall relate a story.”

  Hope surged through Juliana. “Of course you may.”

  “Once upon a time,” Gervaise commenced, “there lived a foolish king named James, who for the sake of religion, forfeited his throne to his daughter, Protestant Mary and her husband, William of Orange. Unfortunately, Mary did not bear a living child. On the other hand, her sister, Anne, bore many, but only one survived beyond early childhood. Tragically, the grim reaper harvested him in the flower of his young life. Yet Papist James’s second wife, Mary of Modena, a lady of his own religion—a faith as unpopular as she was in this realm—bore a son and a daughter. It is that son whom many acknowledge as the third James, believing he is the rightful king of this realm though he is a papist.”

  Although Gervaise repeated nothing they did not already know, he had captured their attention. Eager to hear what else Gervaise had found out, Juliana waited for him to continue.

  Gervaise put the scroll down and toyed with the wax seals. “With your indulgence, allow me to speak of my heroine, Mistress Kemp, for every tale has a heroine. After the death of his first wife, Juliana’s father and half-brother—who were Roman Catholics—pretended to be Anglicans for economic, political, and social reasons.”

  “Nonsense,” William shouted.

  Ralph frowned. “Please continue, Beaumaris, your tale is very interesting.”

  “Yes, it is,” Gervaise agreed with a cheerful smile. “Now, where was I? Ah, yes. Kemp’s mother died soon after the Test Acts were passed, which deprived Roman Catholics of freedom of worship and made it illegal for them to hold public office. Juliana’s father rejected his religion and joined the Church of England. Indeed, in his choice of wives, he went from one extreme to the other, for he fell in love with and married a Huguenot heiress.”

  He broke off and inclined his head to Juliana. “Mistress Kemp, I am amazed. To have married two wives from bitterly opposed Churches, your late father must have been not only a very unusual gentleman but also a brave one.”

 

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