Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03

by Lucinda Brant

  Joy. Elation. Supreme happiness. These were the feelings normally associated with a marriage proposal. Yet, her emotions were hopelessly tangled into knots. She believed herself thoroughly unworthy of Sir Antony’s wildly romantic gesture. This handsome man who kneeled before her, who had opened his heart so publicly and so willingly, deserved better than her in a wife. He would think so, too, when he discovered her for what she truly was. Tears of self-pity welled up to be quickly blinked away. There was no point to feeling sorry for herself. She had made choices and now she must live with them. Antony had made choices, too, and now he must move on—move on without her. It was for the best. He would think so too when he finally knew the truth.

  She mentally prepared herself to give him the answer she knew he did not want to hear. Removing her gloved hand from his, she took a deep breath and bravely met his gaze.

  What she actually said and did was something altogether different. She blamed the look in his eyes—blue eyes that reflected an earnestness of purpose. How could she resist such honesty and such adoration? Her resolve, the guests and their surroundings, all melted away to leave just the two of them smiling at one another as if they were the only two people in the room. It was but a moment, not even a minute, but it was enough. Instead of her gloved hand dropping to her side, she lifted it to gently touch his face. Tracing the line of his strong jaw, her lace-covered fingertips caressed the roughness of stubble to cheek and chin. And when he briefly closed his eyes, turning his face into the palm of her hand, tears pricked her eyelids.

  Without conscious volition she sniffed back tears and whispered, so that only he could hear, “Why ask me such a question in public, you vexatious man?”

  Sir Antony smiled crookedly, kissed her hand and rose up to his full height. He was hurt that her response was not the spontaneous one he had hoped for, but it brought him to a sense of his surroundings and the realization that once again he had allowed his feelings for Caroline to get the better of him. In so doing, he had again placed her in a most awkward position, and he did not have the excuse of a drunken stupor to blame for his impetuosity! Still, she had not rejected him outright, and that gave him hope.

  He had not let go of her gloved hand, and he took a step closer and bent to her ear, so that only she could hear him. To those watching on, it looked as if he was kissing her cheek.

  “Because I love you, Caro,” he replied softly. “I have never stopped loving you.”

  Overwhelmed and overcome, Caroline stifled a sob as she pulled her hand free. With one last look up at his flushed face, she snatched up a handful of her silk petticoats and fled the room, Kitty Aldershot quick to follow on her petticoat hems to a roar of applause.

  LADY REANAY stopped Sir Antony from pursuing Caroline, catching at the embroidered silk skirts of his frock coat and holding fast.

  “Leave her, my boy. She’s overwrought. A proposal from you was the last thing she expected. Best to wait until she can put a sentence together.”

  She smiled at his frown of confusion and was pleased when he heeded her advice with a nod and remained by her side. She was also relieved. In her present disordered state, there was every chance Caroline would refuse him, for all the wrong reasons, something she would later bitterly regret.

  “You are calling on us tomorrow, so can talk with Caroline then,” she added with forced brightness, and gave his silken arm a fond squeeze, turning to take her leave of her daughter-in-law before her nephew could ask any searching questions.

  Diana St. John startled Lady Reanay by affectionately linking arms with her and walking her across the room and out onto the landing. She further surprised the old lady when she turned to face her, tears in her eyes,

  “Thank you for accepting my invitation, my lady,” Diana St. John said with a tremble in her voice. “We have not always been on the best of terms, but four years away, with only my thoughts for company, has given me time to reflect upon what is important in my life.” She touched Lady Reanay’s gloved arm. “Only you truly know what agony of thought I have been through, separated from my dear children. To be without their company… Not to see their dear little faces… I worried every day for their welfare. I worry now they will no longer know their own mother—”

  “That is not true, my dear,” Lady Reanay assured her, made uneasy by Diana St. John’s melancholy tears. She had never seen her distressed. It was such a change from how she appeared in company. She was in total sympathy with her predicament. “Why, only the other day, Merry asked if you had received her latest letter.” In truth it had been three months ago, but, under the circumstances, she thought a little latitude was required to alleviate a mother’s distress. “Such a treasure. She is a credit to you, Diana.”

  Diana gasped. “Letter? My darling Magna wrote me a letter! Oh! If only I had known this while away, it would have given me such hope.”

  “Not just one letter, my dear, several letters. Merry is a very conscientious correspondent, to you, and to her Uncle Tony. She cherishes his replies and keeps all his letters tied up with ribbon and in a special box she decorated herself, with fabric and wallpaper strips cut into shapes. It is quite the most enchanting creation and the perfect place to put her keepsakes. She has an assortment of shells from our visit to the seashore, pressed flowers, and I think there is also—”

  “How charming,” Diana St. John interrupted, disinterested. She forced herself to smile and open wide her wet eyes in expectation. “Is that where she keeps my letters, too?”

  Lady Reanay frowned in puzzlement. “Your letters? Forgive an old lady, my dear, but I do not understand.”

  “The many letters I wrote to my children while on my Continental wanderings,” Diana St. John lied. She blinked at her motherin-law’s look of complete confusion and tilted her head to the side in question. “I wrote to my darlings every week. I made a habit of making Tuesday writing day. No matter where I was, I always found the time to write to my two little ones. I understand letters can and do go astray… But it did not stop me from writing to them.” She pressed Lady Reanay’s gloved hand. “You see, I remember St. John telling me once how much he valued your letters to him while you were traveling abroad. He said they made him feel close to you, even though he knew there was no opportunity of ever seeing you again.” This, too, was a lie and it achieved its object when the old lady’s eyes filled with tears at mention of her son. Diana sighed her sadness, while inwardly congratulating herself on her best performance yet. “That is the excuse I told myself, that their letters to me had gone astray, as to why I never heard from them in all the time I was away.”

  “Are you saying you never received one of Merry’s or Ron’s letters? Not one?” When Diana nodded sadly and dropped her lashes, Lady Reanay was appalled. “How can that be? Why, even when Sir Tobias and I were literally at the ends of the earth in Oslo, I still received Aubrey’s weekly letter. Of course, at times, four weekly letters would arrive at once… Not one letter?”

  “Not one. I thought—I thought they wished to forget me,” Diana replied in a small, weak voice and dabbed carefully at her eyes with her kerchief. She sniffed. “Of course it is not for me to say, but perhaps there were others—others who wished my darlings to forget their dear mother…”

  “Oh! I cannot believe Salt would… That dearest Jane could…” She shook her powdered coiffure, saying more to convince herself than Diana St. John, “No. No. They could not withhold the letters of a mother to her children… Not the letters Ron and Merry wrote you… I cannot believe—”

  “Can’t you?” Diana snarled through her teeth, unable to help herself. She instantly pulled herself up, covering her involuntary outburst with a dry sob, hands to her face, the façade of sorrowful parent masking her true feelings and intent. She looked up when the old lady laid a gloved hand on her arm. “You are Ron and Merry’s grandmamma, you know—in your heart—you know that it is indeed true. Just as it is true my dearest darlings have been kept from me! And you will be shocked when I
tell you, but I must, that Salt’s decision to keep them from me is not his own…” Over the top of her motherin-law’s plumed turban she saw a footman coming up the stairs and added with a trembling smile, “I have detained you far too long,” she apologized. “Caroline and her sweet blonde companion are waiting for you…”

  The old lady met Diana’s sad smile, a frown between her brows.

  “But Jane would never… She has been so good and kind to Ron and Merry… I cannot believe… My dear, if there is anything I can do for you…?”

  Diana hesitated, hands clasped together. As if she had little hope of having her wishes fulfilled, she said heavily, “I dare not impose on your good offices, as I fear it is too much to ask…”

  This prompted Lady Reanay to take hold of both her hands.

  “You must allow me to help you in some small way. You are the mother of my grandchildren, and they are most dear to me, more than anything or anyone else.”

  “Very well then,” Diana responded, gaze lifting from the old lady’s gloved hands about hers. “My dearest wish is to hold my children in my arms. It has been such a long time since I felt the warmth of them… To hold them… To know they are well and happy…”

  “Consider it done, my dear,” Lady Reanay stated. “I shall arrange it. The Earl and Countess need not know… You are the twins’ mother after all… Now you must return to your guests, my dear,” she added, giving Diana’s hands a quick squeeze. “Dry your eyes. You shall see your darlings. That I promise!”

  With that reassurance, Lady Reanay sailed off down the Adam staircase to join Caroline and Kitty in the carriage for home. From the landing, Diana watched with a smile of satisfaction as her gullible fool of a motherin-law disappeared out into the late afternoon light. What tears she had shed were all to good purpose. She fully expected to have her son and daughter returned to her by the end of the week, and then she would discover for herself how much they had missed their dearest mamma. No doubt, that she-devil who shared the Earl’s bed had corrupted their minds, but she would soon disabuse them of false notions and correct their faults. It was her duty as their mother, and their duty as her children to obey.

  She bustled back to her waiting guests, invigorated that her plans were coming to fruition. It was a stroke of luck—or mayhap it was ordained that her plans be given a helping hand—that Salt was hosting a masquerade ball at the end of the sennight. The day after the masquerade, all her troubles would be over. The Earl would again be hers alone. There would be nothing left in his life to distract him from his purpose. He would be able to focus exclusively on becoming First Lord of the Treasury and she would be there beside him, basking in his glory as she had done before.

  While incarcerated in her Welsh prison, she had racked her brain to find a means of being reunited with the Earl, a means that would forever bind him to her. Every day she dreamed of being Countess of Salt Hendon, and every day she permitted the ignorant yokels to think of her as such. Parading about Harlech Castle as if she were in truth Lady Salt fed her addiction and focused her mind. It helped her realize that her dream was not an impossible one. One day she would be Countess of Salt Hendon.

  And then, as if by divine providence, the answer came to her in a dream. Sorrow. Not just grief, but unimaginable sorrow. Only with unimaginable sorrow would the Earl be hers again.

  She truly was a genius.

  The death of her husband from smallpox showed her the way forward and out of her present predicament.

  She recalled the Earl’s devastation at the loss of his closest cousin and best friend to smallpox. The Earl’s best friend, Aubrey St. John, just so happened to be her husband. Far from being a grieving widow, she had been relieved at his passing. But she had hidden her relief with a mask of sorrow to match the grief experienced by the Earl. In mourning the loss of Aubrey St. John together, they had never been closer. It was only in a state of grief-stricken distraction that the Earl fully appreciated what she meant to him. Everything and everyone else in his life was reduced to little or no consequence. Only the here and now had mattered; she had mattered. So it would be again between them.

  There was no better way for them to bond than through the Earl’s unimaginable sorrow. Mutual grief and loss would unite them, this time forever. He would welcome her comfort and counsel with open arms. She would make certain there was no chance of him ever making a recovery. No one recovered from the loss of one’s entire family. There would be no hope left to him other than the hope she provided. He would see that her devotion was constant and unflagging, and she would again be the singular focus of his attention. He would need her to prop him up, to show him that he could overcome his loss for the greater good. To be great, he had to forgo the ordinary; sacrifices were required if he was to be immortalized. No one entered the pages of history as a consequence of being a family man. The thought was a ludicrous one, and he would come to realize this once he reached his potential as the political leader of his country.

  Her plans were in place. She was counting the days with barely-disguised glee. What remained for her to do was to discover the depths of her brother’s ignorance, and deal with him accordingly. She smiled to herself. Such a kind-hearted blockhead as her brother was the least of her worries.

  EIGHT

  THE SHORT CARRIAGE RIDE to Grosvenor Square was accomplished in heavy silence. Lady Reanay and Kitty Aldershot, sitting opposite Lady Caroline, were tearfully ordered by her to make no comment. And so they remained silent and glanced at one another from time to time, while looking mutely on as Caroline averted her face, desolate—view blinded by tears, unaware of her shudders of misery.

  Such was her distress that upon returning to Salt House, she failed to notice the mud-spattered carriage, with the family coat of arms on the black lacquered doors, in the street outside the main entrance. Once indoors, she fled up the main stairs without a second glance at the hive of officious activity that accompanies the arrival of the master of the house and his family.

  Lady Reanay and Kitty Aldershot were more leisurely in alighting the carriage.

  Despite the well-ordered pandemonium in the entrance hall, they were shown every courtesy by the butler, who appeared as if from nowhere to take their cloaks and tell them the happy news that the Countess and her young family had arrived safely, and with everyone in good health and the best of spirits.

  Immediately, Lady Reanay and Kitty rushed to the nursery to meet the newest member of the family, whom they found sleeping peacefully in his cradle. A young nursery maid was gently rocking the cradle of the six-week-old Samuel Antony Hugh Sinclair, and obliged their curiosity by lightly pulling back the soft woolen coverlet so they could clearly see his chubby little face. There was much whispered cooing, and Lady Reanay declared the baby to be the spitting image of his handsome papa. The nursery maid volunteered the children had slept a good deal on the journey, so were much too excited to go to their beds. They could be found across the hall in the nursery’s playroom with her ladyship and Miss Merry.

  Here, Lady Reanay and Kitty Aldershot were greeted with such enthusiasm that Lady Caroline’s misery was quite forgotten while everyone became reacquainted over tea and macaroons. That is, until Miss Merry asked after her cousin, which soon had Lady Reanay whispering in a corner with the Countess, advising Jane that it was best she speak to Caroline directly. She would not tell her more. She would leave that to Caroline. If anyone could make the poor misguided girl see sense, it was Jane. And so Lady Caroline found her desolation interrupted when her personal maid, who was ordered not to answer the outer door to anyone, not even if it was Lord Salt himself, opened the door without hesitation to the Countess’s soft insistent scratching.

  The Countess was taken into the pretty sitting room, where she discovered Caroline prostrate on the chaise longue by the fire, still dressed in her mauve and silver petticoats, still wearing her lace mittens and with a heeled mule kicked off to the Turkey rug. Her face was pressed into the softness of an embroidere
d pillow and upon hearing footfall she muttered something unintelligible into this pillow. It was only when Jane brushed aside the layers of crumpled silk so she could perch on the chaise longue’s damask cushion, and put a hand to her sister-in-law’s disordered coiffure, that Caroline realized it was not her maid but a visitor.

  Jane did not wait for Caroline to decide whether to ignore her or satisfy her curiosity and sit up, saying evenly,

  “Poor Aunt Alice cannot understand why you are so unhappy. That’s all she would tell me. She said you must tell me your news yourself. So here I am. Of course, you do not have to tell me anything if you don’t wish to, but if you do decide to confide in a sympathetic ear, sooner would be best, as Sam will be demanding my breast on the hour and he has no tolerance for my tardiness.” She gave a little sigh, adding, as Caroline’s tearstained face slowly turned on the pillow to regard her through a muss of red silken locks, “And while I am here, perhaps you can advise me if I am being selfish to employ a wet nurse so soon. Salt says I should have done so a fortnight ago, Sam is such a greedy little boy and bigger than Ned and Beth were at the same age. If not for the upcoming masquerade and all the organization that requires, and the night itself, I had meant to persist for another month, if only to absolve my guilt. I nursed Ned until he was a year old, and Beth was nine months before I handed her over to Nanny Browne. Poor Sam is to be denied such comfort much sooner than I had anticipated… Tell me what that says about my chances of suckling Baby Four at all when he arrives?”