by Sahara Kelly
Cressida’s gown was improvised from one of Kitty’s that she’d never worn. It was teal green, and a perfect foil for the red curls that spun tendrils around a small bonnet decorated with real roses.
She carried a small nosegay of the same blooms, touched with pink in their inner centers. Her joyous smile brought similar smiles to those around her, and standing in front of the altar, Richard watched breathlessly as she neared him.
He’d had the forethought to add a small silk bag to his valise, hoping that she would wear that special necklace at dinner with his family. He never realized how important it would be for her to wear it on this particular day, and sparkles glittered from the gems around her neck.
But they were no brighter than the smile on her face.
Walking alone, her head held high with her gaze fixed on him, she didn’t falter, arriving at his side and tucking her arm through his as they both turned to Simon for the ceremony.
It was brief, warm, funny and everything the congregation loved about weddings. A few sniffles were heard, a few smothered laughs when young Hugh added some babbling encouragement, and after it all, when they turned to each other as husband and wife—again—their kiss, so loving and tender, brought sighs to many female throats.
Simon rolled his eyes as it went on. And on.
Finally, he tapped his brother on the shoulder. “Er, Richard? That’ll do nicely. Let her breathe now.”
A general laugh rang through the church and the couple separated, Cressida’s cheeks flushed and Richard grinning from ear to ear. They began to walk down the aisle toward the door only to find everyone on their feet and applauding as they passed.
Richard looked down at his wife. “I think we did it right this time, don’t you?”
She looked back at him, her eyes shining with her love for him. “I bloody well hope so, because I’ll be damned if I do this again.”
His laugh echoed through the church and everyone strolled out into the sunshine with smiles on their faces, which is exactly as it should be after a happy occasion.
The newlyweds hurried to the curricle decorated with ribbons and flowers, and settled themselves, waving to the crowd as they set off for Ridlington.
“And we get to walk, of course,” sighed Letitia. “Isn’t it always the way?”
“Never mind, darling. They were in a bit of a hurry, I suppose.” James raised an amused eyebrow.
Kitty and Max stood next to them. “Hush. That’s my twin. I simply will not think about that.” Kitty shook her head.
“No need, my love. I will make sure you understand the situation quite fully when we get back to the Chase.” Max smiled serenely.
Kitty blushed.
Edmund and Rosaline handed Hugh to his nanny and walked down the path hand in hand. “Seems like years ago, doesn’t it?” She looked at him, then briefly leaned against his side.
“And only yesterday, sometimes, as well.”
“I suppose Hecate is next.” She paused. “I worry about her, Edmund. The others…well they’ve all got their feet on the ground. Or most of the time, anyway. But Hecate…she is…different. And that worries me.”
“I understand, and yes I worry too.” He squeezed her hand. “But even though Hecate’s life doesn’t follow our prescribed rules, she always manages to arrive at the right place at the right time. So all we can do is hope that her future will be as happy as possible, even though it might not be the one we’d choose for her.” He looked ahead. “I have faith in her, Rosaline. I have to.”
“Well, at least Richard’s happy. And what an adventure.” She chuckled. “I hope we can help with the Hatfield problem, though. Cressida would be much relieved if we can clear his name.”
“I’m hopeful,” said Edmund. “There’s already discussions about that Captain. Some complaints have come to light since my inquiry and there are rumors that vital information might have been ignored—or even suppressed—at some level of the Admiralty.”
“Goodness. That’s not very good is it?”
“For the Admiralty? No. For Cressida’s father, however…it might be.” He guided Rosaline over a stile and into the field leading to Ridlington. “Until then, we must keep our spirits up and let them know we’re doing all we can.”
“I think, now they’re really formally wed, a lot of Cressy’s concerns have disappeared.”
“Yes, marriage can do that to a person.” He grinned. “Along with the other delightful trappings of the married state.”
“Not here, Edmund.” Rosaline knew that look. “Too many people around.”
“Damn.” He swore softly. “All right. But when we get home…”
She chuckled. “Yes, darling. When we get home.”
Epilogue
September 1815, the rear lawn outside the conservatory of Branscombe Magna
After the dedication of the Worsnop Memorial
Richard and Cressida Ridlington strolled across the smooth green lawn, arm in arm, smiling and chatting with the guests who had joined the celebration. Today had been the dedication of the Worsnop Memorial and a surprisingly large number of people had come to share in the ceremony.
The monument was simple, elegant and moving; the names already carved on it would be joined by others, as time passed, but on this day, there were smiles, sniffles and many hugs.
The attendance of Baron Ridlington and his wife, not to mention the others in the extended Ridlington family, added a touch of elegance. Lady Ridlington charmed everyone, and was unstinting in her good humor, her willingness to cuddle babies, talk to little ones and praise the youth that would be the next generation of landowners, farmers, husbands and wives.
“They love Rosaline, don’t they?” Cressida smiled at the sight of her new sister-in-law sitting next to Mrs. Parsnip, deep in conversation.
“How could they not?” said Richard. “She has been the driving force behind this family’s recovery.”
Kitty and Max joined them. “Richard, I’m in love with Branscombe Magna,” effused his sister. “Can we buy it from you?”
“No,” said Richard with a sigh. “Max, don’t even ask.”
“I know better,” grinned Max. “We’re thinking of a country home, something we can put our own stamp on. I know James built his, but I’m not sure we want to go to those lengths.”
“Well having seen this place, I’m getting a better idea of what would be perfect for us,” Kitty hugged her husband’s arm. “Since we’re going to need plenty of room.” She twinkled at Richard.
He blinked, confused.
“Oh,” said Cressy. “You mean…”
“Shhh.” Kitty held a finger to her lips. “Nobody else knows yet. We’re keeping it close for another month or so. Perhaps if we can all get together at Christmas…by then it’ll probably be obvious…” She looked up at Max. “We’re scared.”
“Uh…” Richard still looked baffled.
“Never mind, dear.” Cressida chuckled. “I’ll tell you later. Here’s Simon and Tabby.” She turned to them with a happy grin. “Tabby, shouldn’t you be resting?”
“I keep telling her that,” said Simon, casting a worried glance at his wife, whose hands rested comfortably on the visible bump beneath her gown.
“Do shut up, darling,” she admonished. “I’m having a child, not a seizure.”
“I can’t help worrying,” insisted Simon.
“I know, and I love you for it.” Tabby leaned against him. “If you really want to make me happy and content, you’ll procure some of Mrs. Parsnip’s gooseberry tartlets. I seem to have a craving for gooseberries at the moment, and I have no idea why, since I couldn’t stand them before now.”
Letitia and James walked over.
“Richard, do you know your gardener has removed most of his clothes?” inquired Letitia.
“Oh good Lord.” Richard rolled his eyes.
“Most? Not all?” asked Cressida.
“No, he’s still wearing what might charitably be called breeches.
If they hadn’t decided to end at his knees.” James’s laughter burst through his words. “What a unique gentleman he is.”
Cressida nodded calmly. “Indeed. He promises to put on more clothing during the winter, but since he has brought our vegetable garden back from the brink of death, I am inclined to allow him a bit of sartorial leeway.” She glanced around, seeing young Hugh Ridlington playing with Zizi and a croquet ball. “In fact, this very lawn is a result of his talents.”
“In that case, bare it all, I say,” cheered Letitia.
“You would,” giggled Kitty.
“Where’s Hecate?” Rosaline came up to them. “Mrs. Parsnip just gave me a lovely recipe for elderberry jam and I want to see if Hecate knows where they grow around Ridlington.”
“She’s…” Cressida’s eyes roamed the lawn, over the family and friends dotting it, strolling over it and, in some cases, sitting on it.
“There. Beneath the chestnut tree.”
The leaves were showing a few hints of red and yellow now, harbingers of the change of seasons, and as the sun grew low in the sky, the colours seemed to brighten.
The Ridlingtons gravitated toward the blanket where their sister sat, her trusty cat at her side, and Dal a shadow leaning against the trunk behind her.
“So this is where you all are.” Edmund joined them. “Good Lord. The entire family’s here, including the Ridlingtons we haven’t met yet.” He grinned at Tabby.
“We were looking for you, Hecate,” said Letitia.
“I am content,” Hecate smiled back. “To see everyone together…it’s overwhelming.” She looked at them, her unusual eyes bright with happiness. “There is such light around you. Many good things lie ahead.”
“I’ve already got mine.” Cressida squeezed her husband’s hand. In his pocket lay a letter from the High Lord of the Admiralty—a full pardon and the nation’s apologies, offered posthumously to one Gerrard Hatfield.
“I think we all do,” added Richard, looking around. “But what about you, Hecate? What will you do now? You’re welcome to spend some time here with us, you know…”
She held up her hand. “Wait…a moment…”
Everyone fell silent, as Hecate’s eyes roamed over them.
A breeze picked up and blew around them, rustling the leaves at Dal’s feet into a little whirlwind, and dancing with Hecate’s hair, which was loose as always.
“I need to go,” she said, her voice calm. “There is something I must do and the time is now. Southeast. I’ll know the right place when I get there.”
Cressida looked at Richard. “I don’t understand,” she whispered.
“It’s all right, Cressy,” said Hecate. “Every now and again, the universe asks me, in its own way, to lend a hand. It did so quite recently when I was using my scrying bowl.” She made to rise, and Dal was immediately at her side. “I am needed. ‘Tis that simple.”
She had continued to recover and now walked unaided, but with a limp that was enough of a nuisance for her to still require help.
“Where will you go?” Rosaline asked gently. “How can we help?”
Hecate thought for a moment. Then turned to Richard. “What was that ale you were drinking earlier?”
He blinked. “Uh…Chillendale ale, if I remember correctly. Damn fine stuff.”
“Yes.” Hecate smiled. “Chillendale. That’s the place. I have to go there.”
“All right.” Edmund walked to his youngest sister. “If you must, just let me know what you need.” He hugged her, holding her tightly against him, as the precious sister she was.
He leaned over and whispered against her ear… “And if you wouldn’t mind bringing back a few barrels of that ale back with you…”
If you’d like to read why Hecate felt herself summoned to Chillendale, you will find the answer to your questions in:
THE MISTLETOE MARQUESS
While not a part of the Ridlington series, Hecate plays an important role in an eventful holiday season and the ladies of Chillendale will benefit from her presence in several ways.
Hecate’s complete adventures will be coming sometime this Autumn, so remember to watch for news about the last pearl of the Ridlingtons—and the most unique of them all.
In case you may have missed any of the first four novels in this series, and would like to catch up/find out how this family’s adventures began, here are excerpts from Edmund’s story, Simon’s adventures with Tabitha, the start of Letitia’s literary career and a peek at Kitty in London.
Links to all these books, available at Amazon.com, can be found in the bibliography, as well as at the end of each excerpt. (If you are a Kindle Unlimited subscriber, you may read these books—and most of Sahara Kelly’s other novels—for free.)
THE LANDLOCKED BARON
Book 1 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
“I do beg your pardon.”
Everyone’s head turned. The slender blonde stepped forward. “Oh please don’t. We should be thanking you for your care of our brother.” She put down her glass and came forward. “I’m Letitia Ridlington.”
“Miss Ridlington.” The woman curtseyed. “I’m happy to say that your brother is doing well. He has a headache, which is to be expected. But he sustained no other injury than a nasty knock on the head and the doctor expects him to make a full recovery.”
“You managed to reach Dr. Fisher, then?” Simon inquired.
“I did, sir. He had planned to attend the funeral, but said a local woman was in the throes of childbirth. The arrival delayed him, and he could only stay for a few moments, before hurrying back to the mother and babe.”
“One life ends and another begins.” Hecate sipped her champagne. “I’m Hecate. The last Ridlington. I don’t believe we’ve met?”
“Forgive me.” The woman paused. “I should introduce myself. I am Rosaline Henry, currently employed as companion to Lady Fincham.”
“We owe you an enormous debt of gratitude, Miss Henry,” said Kitty. “You handled all the confusion so well and with such an air of command. Everyone obeyed you without question and what could have been a terrible disaster was utterly averted. I was astounded.”
Rosaline felt the color rise in her cheeks, but kept her voice level. “You are too kind.” She stepped a little further into the room. “To be accurate, I am Mrs. Henry. My husband passed away last year which circumstance forced me into the position I have now with Lady Fincham.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Hecate moved to her side and touched her arm in sympathy.
“Thank you. But we must move on with our lives.” It was a practical and appropriate response, but Rosaline was moved, all the same.
“Our brother is doing well, you said, Mrs. Henry. That is good news indeed. Do you have medical skills?” Simon beckoned her to a chair and seated her, his voice kind.
“Not as such, sir. But I nursed my husband for several years. He sustained an injury during his service with Lord Nelson and our brave fleet. It left him unable to assume his duties, and quite unwell. It was that which claimed him after an extended period of pain. A sad time.”
“One learns a lot from such an experience, Ma’am.” Simon’s eyes were gentle. “Your fortitude is to be commended.”
“I appreciate your words, Vicar.” She dipped her head. “I believe you have the Ridlington living? You minister to its flock?”
Simon nodded. “I do. And it is quite gratifying work. Although,” he paused, his hand to his chin, “I can’t say that I recall seeing the Finchams in church of a Sunday…”
Noting his quiet grin, Rosaline smiled. “I’m afraid the Finchams aren’t of a religious turn, sir. I had suggested we attend services, but was overruled.”
“I hear that being overruled goes hand in hand with anything to do with Lady Fincham.” A younger man spoke, his voice full of laughter. “I’m Richard Ridlington, Mrs. Henry. And this is my twin, Kitty.” He waved his
hand at his sister. “Now you’ve met us all. Not on the happiest of occasions…” he lifted his champagne glass, “but we are, in fact, celebrating our continued existence. And now, thanks to you, we can also celebrate our oldest brother’s recovery from what could have been a fatal injury.”
“Indeed, Mrs. Henry. We are truly in your debt.”
Rosaline found a glass of champagne in her hand, placed there by Letitia Ridlington.
“Please join us? To life and living and new opportunities…” She raised her glass as everyone echoed her sentiments.
Rosaline joined them, somewhat amazed at the concentration of diverse but equally powerful personalities all in one room. And all in one family.
The Ridlingtons were certainly a force to be reckoned with. She wondered if Edmund, the eldest brother and now the Baron, was equally dynamic. He would have to be if he was going to take this lot in hand.
Buy now at Amazon.com
St. SIMON’S SIN
Book 2 in the Six Pearls of Baron Ridlington Series
Simon became aware of the silence as the last of the carriages rolled away. The birds still sang, the ocean still provided a background of soft wave sounds, and the breeze ruffled the leaves in the trees and on the hedges that bordered either side of the lane.
“We should walk,” she said.
“Indeed.” Politely, he offered her his arm.
“I’m not decrepit, you know.” She lifted an eyebrow at his gesture.
“I wasn’t implying anything of the sort and you know it.” He sighed. “I was merely offering an arm. Must we always come to daggers drawn?”
She lifted her chin. “No. And I apologize. That was my fault.” She took his arm.
“Apology accepted.”
They began to follow the lane, strolling easily between the laurels and the wildflowers walling them in to their own private walk.