Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03

by Lucinda Brant

  The old lady shot up off the settee and thrust the drawing at the Prince. He slowly took it then settled back to read, first searching a deep frock coat pocket for his spectacles. And while the Prince read, Lady Reanay turned on Kitty. Such was the look of anguish in her hazel eyes, at odds with her forthright speech, that Kitty fell back against the settee, speechless.

  “Rot!” Lady Reanay burst out. “What you said just now, Kitty, all of it, is utter rot and drivel! Regardless you are an orphan with only two pennies to your name, you are a baron’s daughter. As such you outrank Tom Allenby, who is a mere merchant’s son. Tom is a dear dear boy, and Jane’s stepbrother, and he will succeed as a parliamentarian, because he is a bright and honorable man. Yes, he owns vast manufacturing concerns in Bristol, which, as you say, have made him exceedingly wealthy. But for all that, he should consider himself extremely fortunate indeed to marry the daughter of a baron. If anyone is to make an unequal match of such a union, it is you, dearest Kitty! Besides which, you are the sweetest, kindest, most loyal girl imaginable, and he should count his good fortune if you were to agree to marry him. Is that not so, Timur?”

  “Yes. That is so,” the Prince murmured, not taking his eyes from the letter fragment.

  “If Tom loves you and you love him, I do not see what Salt can object to in such a match,” Lady Reanay continued. “Caroline or Antony cannot object, either. And dearest Jane only wants her brother—and you, Kitty dear—to be happy.”

  Kitty blushed with delight to have Lady Reanay’ support, but she did not understand what had caused her ladyship’s distress, for there were tears in her eyes. And the Lady Caroline’s words still niggled.

  “Thank you, my lady. But… The letter—Caroline’s words…”

  “My dear girl,” Lady Reanay said with a sigh of exasperation, “what is written on the back of Ned’s delightful drawing is not about you and Tom.”

  “That is very true,” agreed the Prince, sitting up, a smile at Kitty. He held out his clean white linen handkerchief to Lady Reanay. When she stared at him and then at the square of linen as if it were an object foreign to her, he added gently, “Dry your eyes, my dear, before the others return.”

  “Those words are not about me and-and Mr. Allenby?” Kitty was skeptical. “Pardon, my lady, but even though the first word is smudged and thus unreadable, the last letter, a Y is clear, and my nickname ends in a Y. And the initials TA, who else could they belong to but Mr. Thomas Allenby? And while you and His Highness may champion my cause—a circumstance for which I am exceedingly grateful—it does not mean Caroline must. It is her opinion that a union between me and Mr. Allenby would be the ruin of his career.”

  “Miss Aldershot, let me reassure you,” the Prince said with a note of apology, “you have upset yourself unnecessarily.” He glanced fleetingly at Lady Reanay. “It is not Mr. Allenby’s career that is to be ruined, but mine.”

  “Yours?” Kitty looked from the Prince to Lady Reanay and back again. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness. But how so? And why? If you do not mind me asking such impertinent questions.”

  “He does not mind in the least,” Lady Reanay grumbled. “But I do!”

  “Oh! I am sorry—” Kitty began and was cut off.

  “No. No. Not about asking questions, my dear,” Lady Reanay explained gently, a glance and sigh of exasperation cast at the Prince. “His Highness does not mind in the least to have his career ruined. But I do mind. I mind very much. But—His Highness is also very stubborn, and so will not listen to reason. I will be the ruin of his career, Kitty dear.”

  “That is what others may think, Alice. But I do not. Nor do I care if that be the case.” The Prince held up Ned’s Christmas angel and smiled at Kitty. “This fragment of a letter is not about you at all, Miss Aldershot. It is about me and Lady Reanay. It is about us.”

  SEVEN

  ‘ABOUT YOU and-and Lady Reanay? But how can it be about you and-and Lady Reanay?”

  In her utter astonishment at Prince Mordvinov’s pronouncement, Kitty forgot her manners. She stared at him and then at Lady Reanay. Both were regarding her with sympathy. She did not know what else to say, so she patiently waited further explanation.

  The Prince pocketed his spectacles, and took hold of his walking stick. As he rose slowly from the wingchair, Lady Reanay was quick to take his arm when he was slightly unsteady on his feet, an attentive, sharp-eyed footman one step behind her. Another servant came forward and took the tray holding brandy glass and carafe, and with a bow, retreated into the darkness. The footman, once the Prince was steady on his feet, returned to his position by the fireplace, one of his fellows coming up just then to take his place and attend to the fire in the hearth.

  “Forgive me. I have been sitting too long,” the Prince said, leaning on his walking stick. “You know what that does to my weak knees,” he said as an aside to Lady Reanay, who had him by the elbow. “Under the circumstances,” he added, addressing Kitty and her ladyship, and holding up Ned’s drawing, “it would be for the best if Miss Aldershot were permitted to read this fragment in its entirety.”

  Lady Reanay agreed. “Yes. Under the circumstances…”

  The Prince nodded. “Good. While Miss Aldershot reads, let us take a stroll about the Gallery. It will warm my knees and better prepare me for playing at Hunt the—er—Slipper?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Timur! When I suggested the family play at Christmas games, I did not include us in their number. We will do what the elderly always do: Watch on from the sidelines in silence, and with indulgent smiles.”

  “But… I would very much like to play Hunt the Slipper—with you,” he teased, and turned to make Kitty a quaint little bow before Lady Reanay could respond. He gave Kitty the drawing. “Forgive us our silliness. Here. Read. If little else becomes clear, it will at least convince you this has nothing to do with you and Mr. Allenby.” He smiled crookedly. “I believe the Y is the last letter in the word Reanay, her ladyship’s name. The T and A are the initials of my given names, Timur-Alexi. No doubt Lady Caroline was doing her best to conceal whom she was discussing with her correspondent. Unfortunately, her efforts were for naught when she goes on to mention the Empress and the Imperial Court. But please, read first, and then we will talk. Come, Alice, let’s leave her in peace to do so.”

  Kitty silently watched the couple slowly walk off arm-in-arm up the Gallery, both falling easily into the French tongue, which was their custom when alone together. When they were half way up the length of the long room, Kitty shifted to the wingchair by the enormous hearth, to be closer to the warmth and light. With the soft crackle of the burning Yule Log over her shoulder, she dropped her gaze to the letter fragment.

  It read:

  (ink smudge)—y must be prevailed upon. She must be made to realize the insurmountable difficulties of such a marriage. His family will not welcome it, nor his friends abide such an unequal match. It will be the ruin of TA’s career, so says Antony, and all he has achieved will be for naught. As for her, I am saddened to admit that though I love her dearly, family history is against her. The title ‘princess’ will not eradicate her past. With one divorce and an elopement to her discredit, she will never be received by the Empress or at the Imperial Court. She will be consigned to wait in her drawing room for visitors that will never come. I do not want to see her suffer so.

  You say she is sensible and can be persuaded to do what is right by him. But I am not convinced. She is of an age where reasonableness is thrown to the winds. What has she to lose? What has he? No doubt they have convinced themselves they are in love, so there is little hope of reasoning with either side. Thus, I beseech you to advise Salt to caution her gently. I do not envy him the task, but as head of the family he is the right and proper person to do so. I hope you, dearest Jane, have counseled it be done before Christmastide, before the family gather for an occasion that should be joyous in every sense. Though I fear our pudding, our prayers, and our Twelfth Night gambols will be heavy w
ith her sad disappointment.

  If Kitty was left wide-eyed with new knowledge by Prince Mordvinov’s confession, now having read the fragment she was dizzy with relief that she and Mr. Tom Allenby were not the object of Lady Caroline’s letter. With relief came the realization she had been needlessly foolish, filling her head with all sorts of unnecessary worry and conjecture. Instantly the big black cloud of doubt and worry disappeared from over her young head, and she was again filled with happy optimism of being welcomed by the Salt family as a suitable bride for Mr. Allenby.

  Yet it said a great deal about her caring nature that her relief and euphoria were soon replaced with concern for the future happiness of the couple strolling the Gallery.

  She had heard a little about Lady Reanay’s checkered past. She had asked Lady Caroline, and her best friend had confided what she knew of the scandal. Three decades ago, the Earl of Salt Hendon’s aunt had run off to the Continent with a knighted jeweler while still married to her husband, leaving a small son behind. She had very much wanted to take her son with her but her first husband, who was a cruel, cold gentleman, was within his rights to deny her. He would not hear of relinquishing his son to an adulteress. The boy remained with his father, grew up, married, had children, and died of the smallpox without ever seeing his mother again.

  As a consequence of her scandalous behavior, Lady Reanay was disowned by her family, and Society turned their backs on the notorious Alice Sinclair St. John, as she was known before her eventual marriage to her lover, Sir Tobias Reanay. The couple roamed the Continent, making their home in various capital cities until Sir Tobias passed away in the Italian States many years ago.

  The widowed Lady Reanay remained abroad, still in exile, still reviled by her family. That is until Jane, Countess of Salt Hendon, invited the Earl’s elderly aunt to return home. Her ladyship was not only invited to live with the Salt Hendon family, but to finally meet and connect with her two grandchildren, children of the son she had lost to smallpox. Lady Reanay was once again received in the best drawing rooms—her notorious past forgiven, if not forgotten.

  Now it seemed she was once again inviting the ire of her family, and this time because of her love for an ancient Russian prince.

  It never occurred to Kitty the elderly were capable of falling in love, least of all given to courting. She had wrongly assumed love and courtship were the exclusive preserve of the young. But watching the old couple as they paused in their stroll, the Prince adjusting Lady Reanay’s red woolen shawl, which had slipped from her shoulders as she issued instructions to a liveried footman, Kitty saw them with new eyes, and it was a revelation.

  And with revelation came contemplation, and the even more startling discovery that the Prince had come to Salt Hendon for the express purpose of seeing Lady Reanay. Indeed, Kitty would not have been surprised if his diplomatic trade mission on behalf of the Empress was an elaborate ruse all so he could spend time with Her Ladyship. Perhaps he had followed her to England? Even more startling to Kitty was that she was very sure the Prince had been courting Lady Reanay under her very nose!

  She recalled the numerous times the couple had sat together in a corner of the Nursery taking tea while she helped with the children, using the excuse that it was best if they remained out of the way while she did so. They would retire to the furthest settee in the drawing room after dinner, to talk, always in French, while the rest of the family played at cards, or enjoyed an evening musical recital or read aloud. The couple always managed to slip away to an unoccupied window seat or settee to be alone. And as happened with the elderly, they were indeed left alone, forgotten in their quiet corner. Preoccupied with other family members, caught up in the endless preparations for Christmastide, or daydreaming of what she would say to Mr. Tom Allenby when he joined the family for the festive celebrations, Kitty had been oblivious to the telltale signs of courtship. She wondered if the rest of the family were equally blind, and reasoned not all of them could be, from what she had read in Lady Caroline’s letter fragment.

  She now better understood why Lady Reanay had put her forward to the Earl and Countess as being the best person to be the Prince’s guide while he was a guest at Christmastime. As Kitty was expected to be Lady Reanay’s shadow, and the Prince was to be hers, all three would be often thrown together, and no one would lift an eyebrow to such an arrangement; not even the Imperial sketch artist who was forever looking over their shoulders. Kitty speculated on how many of the sketches in his blotter were of his noble master and his ladylove.

  Being of a romantic disposition, Kitty wondered what the Earl of Salt Hendon and his family could have to object to in a marriage between a couple in their twilight years. For surely such a match could be of harm to no one?

  And being no longer blind and so much the wiser, Kitty also recalled her conversation with the Prince in the hallway leading to Lady Reanay’s rooms. How while he was explaining why he had been late to the Nursery that morning because of a mistaken belief by his valet the house was being overrun by revolutionaries, he had jumped out of bed in his nightshirt, and Lady Reanay had giggled at his behavior. Kitty had not thought much about this, so surprised was she at the Prince’s confidence. But now, the only conclusion she could draw from this was that the Prince and Lady Reanay were not only courting, but sharing a bed.

  Shocked by where her ruminations were taking her, and feeling her face grow hot with embarrassment, Kitty mentally shook herself free of such lascivious thoughts and quickly rejoined the couple, who had returned to stand before the Yule log. The glow from the fire helped hide her red cheeks. Lady Reanay ordered tea, which Kitty thought an excellent idea, and hoped there would be little ginger biscuits as well, as the gnaw of hunger was making her light-headed. She hoped to sit quietly for awhile, but when the Prince asked if he might take her for a stroll up the Gallery while they awaited the teapot, Kitty could not refuse him; Lady Reanay offering to keep Ned’s Christmas angel safe until their return.

  Two minutes into their walk up the long room and Prince Mordvinov stopped and faced Kitty, startling her by confiding,

  “Miss Aldershot, allow me to tell you that I come from a strict noble family who have never married outside the confines of their social order. Indeed, we have never married outside of Russia! We marry whom we are told to marry. We live as we have always lived. And we do not disobey our parents or our ruler. In that way, everyone lives a well-ordered and contented life, and no one is disappointed or disapproving. I have always done what was expected of me—always. But now…” He shrugged a shoulder. “Now, at my advanced stage of life, I believe I have earned the right to do what pleases me. To be selfish, if I want to be, if it is for love. Do you not agree with me, Miss Aldershot?”

  Kitty did not hesitate to agree with him. She smiled.

  “Yes, Your Highness, I do.”

  He returned her smile and patted her hand, “You are a good girl, and I know you will make some man—ah! but not just any man, a good man—a wonderful wife.” When Kitty blushed and quickly lowered her chin with embarrassment, he apologized for being so candid. He became serious again, which brought Kitty’s eyes back up to his lined face, and said evenly,

  “I waited a very long time to marry Lady Reanay. I fell in love with her while my second wife was still living, and Alice was still married to Sir Tobias. We met at an embassy function in St. Petersburg, and I knew as soon as I saw her that I was in love. And within five minutes conversation, I wanted to spend my life with her. Me! Who had never been in love, and would not have known it had someone explained the idea of love at first sight to me, in love with an Englishwoman whom he had just met! Of course I did not tell her, or anyone, my feelings, because at the time, I felt very foolish. I even thought for a time that insanity had gripped me! Me, who had always lived a well-ordered—some would say, Alice would say so—pedestrian existence. But as we were both married to others there was little point on ruminating about possibilities, and overcoming impossibilities. She was h
appily married to Sir Tobias, and I—I had thought I was living a contended life… I did seek permission to write to her, and we corresponded for many years.

  “Believe me, Miss Aldershot, there is no better way to truly know and understand another than through the exchange of the written word. Were you aware Lady Reanay has roamed the Continent from Oslo to Constantinople, crossed the Syrian desert by camel, and swam the Nile when her felucca capsized? What a woman! Ah, the life-stories she can tell!”

  When Kitty unconsciously turned to look at Lady Reanay, who was sipping tea by the fireplace, violet eyes opening wide, the Prince felt the need to stress the truth in his confidences.

  “Yes. It is all true, Miss Aldershot. I assure you. While I lived my sedate life in St. Petersburg, Alice was taking part in all sorts of adventures. Her letters were vastly entertaining, and I felt as if I were there with her! She makes me laugh, and I, it seems, make her giggle, and at the oddest of times. So it seems we are compatible in that way, too. That is important, Miss Aldershot. To laugh together. If there is no laughter, how then can you truly be comfortable with one another?

  “So, over time and with all our letter writing, we became confidantes, and told each other things we have never told another. And we did this without openly declaring our feelings, not only out of a very real fear our letters might be opened and read by others—the Imperial Russian mail is full of spies—but neither of us wanted to hurt others… But when we both had grieved the loss of our loved ones, we were then free, free to spend what remaining years are left to us, together. But you! Ah! You, Miss Aldershot, will have no such obstacles,” he added cryptically. “You are young and unencumbered, and will, I am very sure, marry for love and have the blessing of your family.”