The Birthright

by T. Davis Bunn

  “That’s as may be,” the nanny replied, reaching for the child, “but it is past his dinnertime, and the young master needs a rest.”

  John put up a pretty fuss as he was handed down, then wailed and reached two grasping hands woefully back toward Charles. Charles chuckled both at the boy’s antics and his own continual pleasure in spending time with John.

  Then the pain hit him, harder than it had in weeks. Charles would have gripped his chest with both hands had not Will chosen that moment to come racing around the side of the stables. Charles gritted his teeth against the pain, took a couple of tight breaths, and said with false joviality, “What says the glass, young Will?”

  “Falling, sir. Falling fast, it is.” He took hold of the reins. In the past year, Will had shot up such that his head now crested the stirrups. “Nasty weather ahead, sir. You mark my words.”

  “That’s what must be troubling my joints, then.” Charles raised and lowered his shoulders, willing the pain to ease.

  “Do you need a hand coming down, sir? Shall I run and call for help?”

  “Not a bit of it. Just give me half a moment.” Gradually his chest seemed to unbind itself, and Charles was able to lift his leg over the horse and slide to the ground. He landed hard and leaned against the horse’s flank. When he noticed Will’s anxious look, he forced a smile. “A change of weather bothers me more these days, that’s all. Price of growing older, I suppose.”

  “Aye, sir, it is the same with Mam. She’s always going on about her back and her knees when the blows are coming on.”

  Charles patted the boy on the head and then headed for the manor. He entered through the side door and was pulling off his boots when Gaylord appeared with a steaming mug. “Thought you might use a cup, m’lord.”

  “Most thoughtful, Gaylord.” Charles sat down and sipped the hot tea, grateful for the excuse to remain where he was. “Any news?”

  “Aye, sir. The post is in. There’s a note saying Mrs. Judith Mann is coming in on tomorrow’s coach. And a court messenger from London, bringing papers under Lord Percy’s instruction, and a message that the man himself will be coming this very afternoon as expected.” Gaylord smiled. “And he’s bringing a pianist, sir!”

  “Is he, now? Music and a houseful of guests. Upon my word, that’s good news.” Charles did not play an instrument, nor did he sing, but he loved music all the same and enjoyed sitting and listening. He was kind to amateurs and deeply moved by performances of real talent. Handel was a favorite, as were Bach and Haydn. Hymns and chorales and fugues brought him almost to tears. “Pass the news on to your dear wife.”

  “I’ve already done so, sir. Will you be having a bath now?”

  “In time.” With his chest expanding comfortably again, Charles handed back the empty mug and rose to his feet. “First there are a few things I must tend to. I shall be in the library if anyone wants me.”

  “Very good, sir. The post and Lord Percy’s papers are all on the library desk as usual.”

  Charles mounted the stairs and entered the library, closing the door behind him. But he avoided the desk. He knew what lay there, tied with the purple ribbon and bearing the court seal. Under pressure from Percy, he had finally agreed to have the attorney draw up the documents that formally named Nicole as his heir. There was no choice. This was not just because of his growing chest pains but also because of Lord Harwick, who had been relentlessly pressing the Crown for a review of Charles’s right to select his successor. The things Charles heard spoken about Nicole left him panting with rage. No, there was no time to lose. Each day brought fresh word of Harwick’s maneuvers.

  All that was required now was his signature and that of a formal witness, which no doubt was why Percy was coming. And bringing the musician along for a celebratory tune was the sort of thoughtful gesture that made Percy such a good friend.

  Charles had no interest in inspecting the documents. He was certain Percy had done his customary excellent work. Instead he moved to the library window and stood staring down at the back garden.

  “Uncle?”

  Charles spun around. “My dear Nicole, please come in.”

  “I knocked, but did not hear you respond.” She stepped inside and shut the door. “Am I disturbing you?”

  “Not in the slightest.” Charles motioned to her. “Come over here, will you. There’s something I should like you to see.”

  Nicole stepped into the window’s light. The afternoon sun revealed that she still wore her riding habit and outer cloak with a trailing of dust. She set her bonnet on a nearby settee, unfastened her cloak, then walked over to stand beside him.

  Charles pointed at the couple seated on the bench within the surrounding shrubbery and said, “Now, what do you see there?”

  Nicole looked down at where Anne and Thomas Crowley sat in intimate conversation, lost to all the world, caught up together in their shared thoughts. “If one did not know better, you would think they were in love.”

  “Indeed so.” For an instant, Charles felt a sharp pain in wishing it were Nicole seated there rather than Anne. The flash of agony came and went so fast, he could not tell if it was physical or an inner longing. “Have a seat, my dear.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.” But Nicole did not take the settee opposite his. She retrieved a high-backed chair from the corner and placed herself much nearer to him. Sitting with her back erect and her chin at a proper ladylike angle, she poised herself beautifully and said, “I have something I wish to say.”

  Charles surveyed her with deep fondness. “Upon my word, Nicole, I wish you could see yourself.”

  “Why?” As Nicole glanced down, her old hesitancy briefly resurfaced. “Forgive me for not changing from the road, Uncle. I’ve been busy in the village and I needed to speak with you before—”

  “I did not mean to scrutinize. Quite the contrary. I simply found myself filled with pride over the wonderful woman you have become.” He raised his hands in silent accolade. “My dear, you have become a lady. A viscountess in all but name.”

  Nicole settled once more, but now into a different stillness, as she quietly replied, “Thank you. That is precisely what I wished to speak with you about.”

  “Yes?”

  “Perhaps I have delayed this too long, but I wanted to be absolutely certain. Not certain in the sense that I should stay here and do my duty to you and the Harrow name, but certain that I should be able to find a mission here and live out God’s will in this station.”

  “Duty,” Charles said softly. “Mission.”

  “Indeed. You are offering me a multitude of gifts. I wanted to be sure I could live up to the responsibility.”

  Charles marveled at the beauty of this poised woman, at the keening sorrow he felt in his heart. “And you feel you have done so?”

  “I…I think so,” Nicole said. “Yes. I may not be as much of a visionary as my sister Anne, but I shall always seek others’ guidance.” She lifted her chin a fraction more. “If you are still wishing to grant me the title and the honor, Uncle, then I am willing to be your heir.”

  “You are willing.”

  “Yes. I promise to do the very best I can, before you and before God. With all that I have within me and all that I am given.”

  “My dear, I am so proud of you….” Then Charles stood and stepped back over to the window. He saw that Anne and Thomas were still on the bench, so engrossed in conversation they seemed unaware of the falling dusk. He said to the world beyond the manor, “I am moved beyond words by your offer, Nicole, and by the way you seek to fulfill your role.”

  “Thank you, Uncle.”

  Charles returned to his seat. “I find myself recalling the day of your arrival. Do you know, the first impression I had of you that day was not your stepping from the carriage, but rather your laughter drifting upon the wind.”

  Nicole gave a half smile. “James let me help drive the horses.”

  “When we walked inside that day,” Charles said, “I asked one
thing of you. I asked you to bring laughter and joy into this house.”

  Nicole blinked, then twice more. “It has been very hard learning the lessons of this world. But I’ve found a certain happiness, which came again to me this very afternoon. I am doing the best I can and I am truly helping people. They need me.”

  Charles rose, reached out his hands, and drew Nicole to him. He gave her a tight embrace and whispered in her ear, “You are one of the most beautiful, remarkable women I have ever had the honor of knowing.” He then released her, feeling his throat swelling closed. “You have enriched my days, my dear Nicole. You adorn my heart and my home.”

  He watched her curtsy and take her leave, and then he walked back to the window. In the ensuing moments, the two on the bench had left, so that now there was neither sound nor person to interrupt his reverie of the grounds. The sunset was made brilliant by a gathering of clouds on the horizon. The sky was burnished a magnificent gold, with flashes of crimson and copper streaking the coming storm. He looked out at the waning day and wondered what was right, what his own duty was here.

  The pain struck him then, a force so strong it stripped the strength from his legs.

  Charles crashed to his knees, both hands clenching his chest, as sweat burst from his forehead. But there was a difference this time: No longer did he feel fear or pressure to accomplish anything, to change anything. With the single thread of thought he could manage beyond the pain, he wondered if this was what it meant to die and relinquish all. To accept that no matter what he did, it would account to little in the face of heavenly perfection.

  Soon the pain disappeared. So sudden and total was its departure, it was hard for Charles to believe he had ever been attacked at all. He clambered to his feet and wiped the perspiration from his face. “Thank God,” he whispered.

  For in that instant he knew what was to be done. Finally, after all the hesitation and wondering and struggle, he now knew. There was no longer any question. None.

  Chapter 31

  Charles remained standing at the head of the stairs as Gaylord opened the front door and greeted the guests. He stayed there and observed how Nicole moved to the center of the front hall. She gave the solemn nod of the head, like a queen receiving visitors. “I bid you welcome, Lord Percy,” Charles heard Nicole say, with the quiet dignity of a woman twice her age. “It is always good to see you again. Was your journey pleasant?”

  Percy seemed to recognize that, on some deeper level, the transition had been made. Her role had been accepted, and the transformation was now complete. He gave a bow as low as Charles had ever seen from the portly older gentleman, and replied, “All but the final hour, m’lady. We were struck by a great lashing of rain and such wind that I feared the carriage would be overturned.”

  Not one person walked in behind Percy, but two. The woman wore a mud-stained travel cloak and the weary expression of one who had had a trying journey. The man was hawk-faced and held a piercing gaze. He instantly recognized Charles leaning against the upper banister and gave him a single sharp nod.

  “May I have the honor,” Percy went on, “of presenting Samuel and Sylvia Blackthorne, of Philadelphia. And this is the lady of the house, Miss Nicole Harrow.”

  “It is always an honor to welcome friends of Lord Percy,” Nicole said. To the woman she said, “You look all done in, madame.”

  “My wife has not been in the best of health,” Mr. Black-thorne replied. His voice matched his expression—hard and clear.

  “Then we must put you straight into bed, and I shall ask my sister Anne to have a look at you. She has a wondrous talent for medicine.”

  Sylvia responded weakly, “But I was told that I was to perform tonight.”

  “Nonsense.” Nicole’s voice, though quiet, brooked no argument. “Guest accommodations have already been prepared for you. Gaylord, please have the maid draw a bath and ask Maisy to prepare a bowl of her excellent marrow broth. Then see if Anne might take a moment to speak with Mrs. Black-thorne here.”

  “At once, m’lady.”

  Percy observed Nicole with a keen eye and, to Charles’s surprise, offered her a second bow. “My lady, might I be the first to congratulate you.” He rose back up. “Not merely for the position which is now yours, but for the way you have come to deserve it.”

  Nicole reached out her hand and touched the gentleman’s arm. “It will only be with God’s help and the wisdom of trusted friends such as yourself, Lord Percy, that I shall manage.”

  Charles’s heart swelled with affection and pride as he watched his niece below.

  It was obvious that Percy had also been deeply affected by Nicole’s presence this night. “I am yours to command, my lady. And might I add that I am more than confident you will not merely manage, but thrive at it.”

  Charles retreated, leaving Nicole as hostess. Percy was right, of course. There was no question in Charles’s mind but that she would thrive.

  After dinner Charles invited the two gentlemen to join him in the library. Mr. Blackthorne entered the room, saying, “I must thank you once more for your niece’s kind ministrations, Lord Charles. I understand my dear wife is already feeling much better. She asks that I extend her apologies for not playing the piano tonight as she intended.”

  “She has graced the concert halls of Philadelphia and New York, among others,” Lord Percy added.

  “Then I shall look forward to hearing her upon another occasion,” Charles said. In truth, he was not of a mind for music just then. “But at least it grants us an opportunity to speak together on other matters.”

  “Yes, of course,” Samuel Blackthorne agreed. “Lord Percy and others have related to me the sacrifice you have made on behalf of our efforts. And so on behalf of the Continental Congress, sir, I offer you our humble thanks.”

  “I did not see it as a sacrifice,” Charles said, “but as my duty.” He leaned forward in the settee and added, “My duty to my king.”

  Responding with a somber nod, the colonial did not appear surprised. “Which makes your actions all the more laudable, sir.”

  Charles resisted the urge to wave aside Blackthorne’s comment. He had no intention of showing disrespect to his guest, yet he had no desire to be praised either. Nor did Charles want to spare the time. Everything seemed to press down on him now. He felt both a growing sense of impatience and of peace, as though there was time left for only the essentials. Essentials such as the first formal dinner, where Nicole sat at the head opposite Charles and assumed her role as the manor’s hostess, or riding his horse with John, and time for other matters… “Mr. Blackthorne, I would ask if you are willing to act on my behalf.”

  The gentleman shifted uncomfortably, caught now by his words of gratitude. He glanced at Lord Percy, who seemed mystified by Charles’s request. “That…would depend, Lord Charles.”

  “As a loyal British subject, I cannot offer support to forces opposing my king. And yet I consider this war to be a tragic folly. I must do something….” He stood up and walked over to his desk, sorted through some papers, and pulled from them a document. “I have prepared this. It is in rough form, so Percy will have to fancy it up. But the gist of it is that I wish to establish homes for women who have been widowed by this war. And homes for orphans, as well.”

  The man leaped to his feet. “My dear Lord Charles!”

  “My desire is to see such houses of comfort established in all thirteen colonies. Perhaps it will help the weakest of those who now suffer the consequences of our folly.”

  Samuel Blackthorne grabbed Charles’s hand and wrung his arm violently. “Lord Charles, this is a magnificent gesture! Truly it is.”

  “I must agree,” Percy said from his perch on the settee. “You have done us all proud.”

  “You cannot imagine the number of people I’ve met on this journey who claim the best of intentions and yet are seeking their own selfish gain,” Blackthorne continued.

  “Yes, well…” Charles managed to extricate his hand. �
�I seek nothing for myself.”

  “Perhaps not, m’lord, but I have something for you nonetheless.” Blackthorne reached into his coat pocket and withdrew a sealed parchment. “My voyage here was not just to thank you for your actions before Parliament, m’lord. It was also to gauge the man and his motives.”

  Percy stiffened. “You said nothing of this.”

  “Because I was instructed not to.” His hawkish features did not waver. “The Continental Congress is now considering a motion whereby the property of our British opponents is to be seized and redistributed. This would include all the landholdings of absentee British landlords.”

  “What!” Percy sputtered and struggled to rise. “This is an outrage!”

  “On the contrary,” Charles admonished. “It is perfectly reasonable in time of war. England has done the very same on a number of occasions.”

  “Just so.” Blackthorne handed over his carefully folded papers. “This document attests to your services to the new United States of America, m’lord. And confirms your rightful ownership of the property in Massachusetts.”

  As he accepted the document Charles felt an energy race up his fingers and straight to his heart. Instantly he knew this gift for what it was. “I am indeed grateful, sir.”

  “It is I who am thankful, both for your gift and for your hospitality.” Blackthorne bowed and started across the room. He opened the door, then paused long enough to look back and add, “My only regret is that England does not have more men like you at her helm.”

  After the door had closed quietly behind Blackthorne, Percy turned to Charles and said, “I am absolutely thunderstruck!”

  Charles smiled down at his old friend. “Let me call for Nicole. I believe the evening might yet hold more surprises.”

  Chapter 32

  Nicole and Anne were seated in the antechamber, seeing duty now as baby John’s nursery. Anne had drawn her chair close enough to reach out and rock the cradle with her foot. If she and Nicole kept their voices down, there was no need to worry over disturbing the sleeping child. The older John became, the deeper grew his sleep. The nanny had remarked on this as well, saying that in another year or so the child would nap through heaven’s trumpets.