Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03

by Lucinda Brant

  “You needn’t be embarrassed by your whiskers. Salt is thoroughly unpresentable,” she said so all could hear. “He practically has a beard! And I have never seen Tom or Mr. Willis so disheveled. Mr. Wraxton is the only respectable one amongst us. Oh, and Jane. But Jane never looks ruffled. None of us have been to bed, as you can see.”

  Sir Antony had seen. Yet, it had not registered with him that because everyone was still in their masquerade outfits, they had stayed up all night.

  “There seemed little point in retiring for the night when the children were due to wake in a matter of hours,” Jane explained as Sir Antony took his place on a cushion between Caroline and the Earl.

  “So we made a party of it,” Tom added, passing Sir Antony a bowl filled with fruit. “Did we wake you?”

  Sir Antony took an apple, a shake of his head. He noticed then his aunt was not one of the party.

  “Lady Reanay perfectly well…?”

  “Yes. I sent her to bed,” Jane explained. “The physician gave her something to sleep. The—events—of the evening greatly unsettled her…”

  “Booffs! Booffs!” Beth called out, jumping up and down on Kitty Aldershot’s lap, a chubby finger pointing in direction of the pug puppy.

  This considerably lightened the mood, and everyone watched Boots the pug puppy struggle to remove his round head from under one of the domed silver lids. As the pug puppy attempted to back his way out of his dilemma, so the domed lid went with him, which had everyone laughing. In the interval that saw Lady Caroline rescue the puppy and the footmen fuss with removing the platter, the Earl took the opportunity to have a private word with Sir Antony, who was quietly chomping away at his apple.

  “The local magistrate came to call an hour ago. He is satisfied with Bennetts’—the physician’s—verdict of accidental death. She will be buried without fuss, and quietly—today. Everyone has been informed, Merry too. Tom has offered to fetch Ron from Eton. I suggest a private memorial service in a day or two …”

  Sir Antony nodded, surprised by the constriction in his throat, and not from the apple, that made it impossible for him to speak. The Earl sensed this, and he, too, was overcome with emotion. Taking a moment to find his voice, and clearing his suddenly dry throat, he gave his cousin’s hand a squeeze and said,

  “Antony… Tony, I cannot—I cannot imagine what you went through… What you witnessed… Bennetts told me the extent of her injuries… Horrific. He is of the opinion she probably died of a heart attack, brought on by the shock suffered by such burns. Tom told me the rest… I—Jane and I—what we owe you… You have given us—all of us—a reason to embrace the future…” He gripped his cousin’s shoulder. “I’m so pleased—so very pleased—you’ve come home.”

  Sensing there was a lull in the laughter and activity, the Earl rallied and looked up to find Merry waiting patiently to speak with him. He put out his hand to her. “Dear me, for a moment I mistook you for a junior footman, Merry!”

  “Junior footman?” Sir Antony questioned, entering into the spirit of the Earl’s good-natured teasing. “How many junior footmen do you employ with waist-length hair?”

  When the Earl pretended to think about the question, Merry giggled and said, “Silly Uncle Salt!” She glanced at Sir Antony, and asked quietly, “May I please be permitted to ask Uncle Tony the question about the boxes now?”

  “Ah, yes! The mystery of the boxes! More correctly, the crates that have been blocking up poor Miller’s pantry.” Salt nodded at Merry, who asked her question.

  “Are the contents of those crates over there for us, Uncle Tony? May we open them now?”

  “Two questions I am more than happy to answer yes to,” Sir Antony replied, tossing aside the apple core amongst the remnants of breakfast. “With Uncle Salt’s permission, now is the best time to have them opened and the gifts distributed. But I shall need two gift fairies to deliver my gifts to the correct recipients. Do you think you and Miss Aldershot would do us the honor of being the gift fairies?”

  “Monkey and Ned want to be fairies too!” Ned demanded, rushing up to stand beside Merry.

  “An elf, mayhap, Ned. Only girls are fairies,” Salt told him.

  Ned made a face pondering this, and looked over at his mother. She was smiling. He shook his curls at his father. “No, Papa. Monkey and Ned will be fairies with Merry.”

  “Why not,” Sir Antony agreed. “The more fairies the merrier.”

  Ned beamed and taking Merry’s hand skipped behind Kitty to the far side of the tennis court where three footmen were busy opening and removing straw packing from three large crates.

  Lady Caroline held Sir Antony’s hand, and the rest of the picnickers sat up on their cushions in anticipation of what the crates would reveal. Miller had a footman help the children carry several larger items across to the carpets, while another footman put into Kitty Aldershot’s arms a pile of smaller articles. All were wrapped in cloth and tagged, and the gift fairies did an excellent job of distributing the parcels to the name listed on the tag; Merry reading the names to Ned, who then was given a parcel to hand to the respective recipient. This worked well until Ned heard his own name read out, and all thought of helping Merry vanished in the excitement of opening his gift; this, his father helped him do.

  Everyone was engaged in unwrapping their gifts, but not so self-absorbed that they did not fail to hear the little boy’s huge intake of breath, and then look up to see the astonishment in the roundness of his eyes as he beheld a stick pony, and not just any stick pony. This one had a lush mane and a leather bridle, and at the end of the stick, two wheels painted in gilt. With the stick pony came a blue velvet cape trimmed with silver spangles, a silver and gold-leaf helmet with plumes, a matching shield and sword, and a pair of red leather boots. When dressed, Ned would look—not that he had any idea what one was—every bit a Roman centurion.

  The others were no less thrilled with their gifts. Beth was given a doll dressed in a silk damask gown, and there was a miniature tea set complete with silver teapot and porcelain cups to share. Jane received the adult version of the same, a lemon yellow porcelain tea service from the Russian Imperial Porcelain Factory in its own special case. Caroline, Jane, Kitty and Lady Reanay all received a folding fan with ivory sticks and mother-of-pearl inlay, every one with a different painted pastoral scene in the manner of the artist Boucher. Wrapped with each fan was a Sèvres porcelain bonbonnière, the little sweet boxes the shape of the head of an exotic animal. There was a nécessaire for Caroline, the tortoiseshell toilette traveling case complete with ivory combs, brushes, perfume bottles, traveling beakers, utensils and a silver etui manicure set. Just what she required to go traveling the Continent with Sir Antony.

  Tom was very pleased with a set of quills and a porcelain standish, standard equipment for any gentleman who had a great many letters to write. If this cryptic remark by Sir Antony raised the Earl’s eyebrow, Sir Antony chose to ignore it. Arthur Ellis could not believe his good fortune to be gifted a pair of shoe buckles he could never hope to purchase himself, and a Parisian embroidered ivory silk waistcoat.

  Mr. Rufus Willis wondered if he had unwrapped someone else’s gift by mistake when he opened a velvet-lined box to discover a silver fob watch and chain. But when he turned it over and saw his initials elaborately engraved on the backing, he was lost for words. A similar watch with his initials engraved awaited Ron when he returned home from Eton. The steward was also given a small wooden box. He was not to open it now. It was for Mrs. Willis: A Sèvres porcelain chocolate pot with matching chocolate cups and dishes.

  There was even a gift for Hilary Wraxton, who was delighted with a set of quills. With it came a rather odd-shaped porcelain receptacle decorated in the Chinese manner, which at first glance looked to be a vase for holding flowers. It did not take the poet many minutes to realize its more practical function, and he quickly wrapped it up again lest the ladies take too much interest in it, a nod and a tap to his temple at Sir Antony.
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br />   “Up there for thinking, Antony! Up there for thinking!” was all he would say, a smug little smile splitting his face.

  For the Earl, a gold snuffbox covered in diamonds and precious gems. On the inside of the lid was a miniature portrait painting of his beloved Jane. The miniature was one of two he had commissioned and when only one was delivered, he had wondered at the whereabouts of the second. The Countess had remained suitably vague on the subject. Now he knew; she had sent it to Antony to have it set in the snuffbox. He stared down at the precious object for a good five seconds, too overcome to speak, and then, at the Countess’s gentle inquiry, passed her the snuffbox to admire.

  Another gift for Caroline and she pried open the lid of a velvet-lined box to discover not one but three leather and velvet collars studded with diamonds and set at intervals with tiny silver bells, mistaken by the others to be bracelets, but she knew better. She threw her arms about Sir Antony’s neck and kissed him heartily, further astonishing everyone by scooping up Boots and having Sir Antony put the smallest collar about the puppy’s neck.

  This made Salt laugh and shake his head.

  “I should counsel you not to overindulge her, but you will anyway,” he said to Sir Antony, and to goad his sister.

  Caroline opened her mouth to make a retort but closed it in deference to Merry who, after distributing the gifts, was now able to sit and open her own gifts from her Uncle Tony. Both were what she had always dreamed of having, and never thought she ever would, despite telling her uncle in one of her letters that she hoped one day to have a paint box and easel of her own. She not only received a paint box full of every paint imaginable, there were paint brushes, porcelain mixing pots, and palettes, a fold-away easel and parchment.

  It was the second gift that set the ladies ooh-ing and aah-ing and the gentlemen smiling with indulgence.

  It was a beautiful doll, twenty-three inches in height, with poseable limbs and lovely smiling porcelain features. She had a head of waist-length real brunette hair to dress, and a wardrobe of the latest gowns and petticoats in silk damask and velvets from the workshop of a Parisian couturier. There were linen chemises, whalebone stays, pairs of embroidered pockets to tie on under her gown, stockings and garters, and a set of cane and velvet panniers. She had five pairs of shoes, two miniature folding fans, a purse, an umbrella, fichus, shawls and three hats, a pocket book, parasol, and a chair to sit upon. Most surprising of all, she also came with three little wigs of real hair to powder and dress. All the dolls’ clothes and accoutrements fitted into a polished wooden armoire that was no less spectacular, with drawers and a space for the doll to live when she was not being dressed and played with. It was the most wondrous gift, and any woman of fashion, not least a girl almost thirteen years old, would love to own.

  When Merry stopped hugging her Uncle Tony and thanking him, she skipped over to the assembled nursery maids and Nanny Browne to show them her beautiful doll and her accessories. Nanny asked if she had a name in mind for her doll, and Merry replied Antonia, in honor of her Uncle Tony. At about the same time, baby Sam began to fuss in his father’s arms, and as Jane was busily engaged in watching Ned ride his pony, Beth having migrated to her lap to show her mother her beautiful doll, the Earl looked about for Sam’s nurse.

  Betsy was there in an instant, and as she took Sam into her arms, Sir Antony caught her eye and smiled up at her. She smiled back and retreated, but not before Hilary Wraxton made a startling discovery.

  “Antony! Oi! Antony!” he demanded, finger wagging at Betsy’s back. “By God, there she is! There she is! The mob cap girl!”

  Conversations stopped in an instant. However, as Sir Antony remained perfectly calm, and it was Hilary Wraxton making the pronouncements, after a small pause, conversations resumed as if the poet had not spoken.

  “Yes, Hilary,” Sir Antony replied calmly. “Perhaps, at some later date, you may care to recite your poem to Betsy. And when you publish your slim volume of poems, you will dedicate that particular poem to Betsy Smith—your muse.”

  Hilary Wraxton’s eyes glazed as the idea took hold. “My muse… Yes. Yes! Betsy Smith… My muse…”

  “His brother has run off abroad with Jenny Dalrymple,” Salt mentioned casually.

  “Has he? With—Lady Dalrymple?” asked Sir Antony, mildly interested.

  “Yes,” the Earl replied, a sly glance at Sir Antony whose features remained perfectly composed.

  “It’s not what I had in mind, but given the events of last night, it will do,” Sir Antony mused, and said nothing further.

  Rufus Willis stared at Sir Antony, astounded, then blinked at his noble employer.

  “Dacre Wraxton? The MP for Hendon? Run off? Run off with Lady Dalrymple?”

  “Came up to me at the ball, apologized and resigned as MP,” the Earl told him. “ Said I would have it all in a letter today.” Salt pursed his mouth, adding, another glance at Sir Antony, “I received the strongest impression his speech was rehearsed… Or that someone else rehearsed it for him and he just spat it out. What is vastly more interesting is that he gave me the name of a suggested replacement for his seat in the Commons. Mentioned that would be in his letter, too.”

  “Tom will make a capital and most diligent Member of Parliament,” Sir Antony stated.

  “I never mentioned Tom by name.”

  “I know that,” Sir Antony replied adroitly.

  Tom Allenby looked about, and realizing the Earl and his cousin were talking about him sat up straight. “Me? Me an-an MP?”

  “I also know that Tom, while furthering the cause of Hendon and his mentor Lord Salt in the House, will have causes of his own to further…”

  “I will?” Tom asked with a blink.

  “Don’t be coy, Tom. Caroline told me all about your interest in the emancipation issue. And then there are the rights of animals—”

  “The rights of animals?” Rufus Willis repeated, incredulous, a worried glance at the Earl.

  “Come now, Mr. Willis,” Sir Antony said. “Surely you have had your fair share of Lady Caroline’s lecturing on the suffering of the fox during the hunt. And I am very sure you have, in your small way, assisted her ladyship with the relocation of those larger animals she rescues from their cruel owners and sends to Mr. Allenby at Allenby Park?”

  “Well—er—yes,” Rufus Willis admitted truthfully.

  Tom Allenby’s eyes suddenly shone and he looked to Sir Antony for confirmation.

  “As an MP I could put a bill before the House seeking a ban on the cruel and unusual practices of those establishments that keep animals for sport and—”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Tom,” the Earl advised. “I marvel at your ability to orchestrate and manipulate at will,” he said to Sir Antony. “The sooner you are made an Ambassador, the better for England’s relationship with its neighbors across the Channel.”

  “I have no vested interest other than Caroline’s happiness.”

  “I cannot argue with that,” the Earl quipped, a sidelong glance at his sister who was tugging at Sir Antony’s sleeve to get that gentleman’s attention.

  “I do love the nécessaire, and the glorious gifts for my puppies, for which I thank you most heartily, but what of the gift?” Lady Caroline asked in an under voice. “Do you not have a special gift just for me…?”

  Sir Antony did not take her hint. He did indeed have a betrothal ring, set with rubies and diamonds, and a gold wedding band to match, but he pretended ignorance. He said in all seriousness,

  “I can think of no greater gift than my everlasting love and devotion.”

  Lady Caroline blinked at him, and blushed. “Of course! Of course that is the most important gift of all but-but—”

  Sir Antony could not have been happier to see her contrite. He cut her off, saying with continued practiced ignorance,

  “Oh? Do you mean the Special License your brother keeps in the drawer of his desk which has our names upon it?”

  Lady Caroline’s
eyes sparkled.

  “Do you, Salt? Do you have a Special License for Antony and me?”

  The Earl glanced at Sir Antony, frowning, wondering how his cousin knew. “Yes. I do. But how did—”

  “Then we can be married at once!” Lady Caroline declared. Swept away with her enthusiasm, she looked to her family, who were now listening to the conversation, and said happily, “Merry will be flower girl, and Kitty my bride’s attendant. Tom must be Antony’s best man, as Salt is to give me away, and Jane—” She looked at Jane with contrition. “You do not mind if Kitty attends me, do you, dearest?”

  “I am more than happy for Kitty to do so,” Jane replied. “And of course Salt must give you away.” She glanced at the Earl and said, tongue firmly in cheek, “I can’t promise his mood, but I can assure you that the Sultan of Glum will be in a vastly better frame of mind than he was the day he married me!”

  “Jane! That is unfair and cruel,” the Earl grumbled and flushed.

  No one spared his feelings; everyone laughed heartily.

  “What will you wear, Caroline?” Kitty asked.

  It was a simple enough question, but it had the ladies instantly alert and soon in discussion on which of Caroline’s many robe à la française gowns would be most suitable, or if she should have an entirely new gown made for the occasion. As the conversation threatened to be constant and unflagging, with Hilary Wraxton offering up suggestions on required accoutrements for this bridal gown, Sir Antony anchored the discussion before it set sail into the uncharted waters of choice of fabric, color and suitable trimmings.

  “To say I am delighted by your joyous enthusiasm for such an event, my darling, would be an understatement,” Sir Antony drawled. “But you forget perhaps that were this grand event to take place, it cannot be for at least two months.”

  Lady Caroline was startled.

  “Two months?”

  “Six weeks would be prudent,” Salt stated. “And if the ceremony is a small family affair on the estate, and the honeymoon conducted somewhere out of the way—”

  “Ireland.”