by Lauren Royal
“Whose wedding?” Mary asked.
A smothered laugh came from Kendra.
Colin’s mind raced. His gaze swept the chamber. “Lord Cornice and Lady Chimneypiece.”
He would swear Kendra was choking. Not that she didn’t deserve to.
He cleared his throat. “Charles and Lady Jane playacted all the way to Bristol. One day Charles’s horse cast a shoe, and as he held the mare’s foot for the blacksmith, he asked the man if there was any news since the battle.”
Mary’s blue eyes were round as saucers. “What did the man say?”
“He told Charles that some of the Royalists had been found and arrested, but not yet Charles Stuart. The Roundheads called the king by the name of Stuart.”
“Then the blacksmith was a Roundhead,” Davis surmised. “Wasn’t Charles afraid to talk to him?”
“Not Charles. But Lady Jane, she was having a fright. And what do you suppose our good king said then?”
“What?” the children chorused.
“He told the smith, ‘If that rogue Charles Stuart is taken, he deserves to be hanged, more than all the rest.’”
“He didn’t,” Davis breathed.
“He surely did. Charles enjoyed his jest, but Lady Jane nearly expired on the spot.”
“I don’t blame her,” said the dark-haired girl. “Not at all.”
“Me, neither,” Kendra put in with a raised brow. “That prank brings to mind one of my brothers.”
“Let me finish,” Colin scolded. “Lady Jane breathed more easily when the shoeing was done and they could be on their way. But at Bristol they were disappointed. For a whole month, there was no ship sailing to France or Spain. So Charles had to hide about the countryside again until they finally found a ship that could take him to France. The ship was named the Surprise, but it’s now called the Royal Escape.”
He stood. “And that is the end of the story. Time for bed, children. We’ve a long trip back to London in the morning.” He flexed his shoulders and stretched.
Applause came from the doorway behind him. He turned to see his brothers, faces and clothing black with the soot of London’s fire.
“Welcome back!” Kendra sprang up to greet them, her embroidery landing unceremoniously on the floor. She hugged them each in turn. “How did you like our storyteller?”
“Watch your gown; we’re both sorely in need of a bath,” Jason admonished. He aimed an exaggerated nod toward Colin. “I would have liked to attend the Cornice–Chimneypiece wedding. Pity that we were too young.”
“Colin certainly rose to the occasion,” Kendra said. “I all but forced him into it—in a sisterly way, of course.” When Colin snorted at that, she flashed him an innocent smile. “Whatever made you think of that particular story?”
“Do you not remember? We must have heard Charles tell it a hundred times on the Continent. It was all but our nightly entertainment.” He looked to Jason. “You brought Ebony with you, I’m hoping?”
“We’re both fine,” Jason drawled. “Thank you so much for asking.” He turned to Ford. “So nice of him to inquire after us before thinking of his horse.”
Ford shrugged. “It’s not as though we’ve spent three days battling flames, exposing ourselves to the dangers of falling walls and debris—”
“No, nothing like that,” Jason agreed. “Nothing that would compare to the hazards of telling a bedtime story.”
“Oh, that’s not all he’s been doing. You don’t know the half of it.” Kendra rolled her eyes toward where Amy slept upstairs, and Colin moved closer, intending to elbow her in the ribs.
With a laugh, she dodged out of his way. “We’ll see the children to bed. You two go clean up, and we’ll meet you back here with some supper.”
SIXTEEN
AMY WOKE to the sound of low voices nearby. She kept her eyes shut tight—she had no intention of letting anyone know she was conscious just yet—but even so, she could tell from the color inside her lids that morning had arrived.
Finally.
Several times during the interminable night, she’d awakened and floated to the surface of awareness, first hearing the soft crackling from the fireplace, then feeling the persistent burning in her right palm. And then she’d remember—and immediately force herself back into the depths of slumber. Back to where it was last week, and she wasn’t alone in the world, and her only worry was her upcoming nuptials.
Once, she’d sensed a presence in the chamber and slitted her eyes open, peeking through her lids to see Colin watching her, his profile dark against the light of the flickering fire. She’d shut her eyes and lain perfectly still, feigning sleep until he left. He’d sighed heavily before closing the door behind him.
What kind of sigh had it been? she’d wondered vaguely as she lapsed back to her troubled dreams. A sigh of concern, or a sigh of exasperation?
He certainly seemed to be exasperated now.
“I need this deuced business over and done with,” she heard him say. “I’ve responsibilities to get back to.”
“Well, it’s not to be,” a deeper voice answered reasonably. His older brother, Amy reckoned. So the brothers were back. “You’ll have to deliver the children without her. You’re not going to haul her around the countryside unconscious, are you?”
“Of course not!” Colin snapped.
“Shh! She might be ill, you know, if she’s been sleeping this long.” A younger, slightly scratchy voice. The other brother.
She heard a couple of footsteps, then a warm palm pressed onto her forehead and rested there a few seconds. Colin. It had to be. “She’s not hot,” she heard him say from right above her head. “And I checked her hand again last night. There’s no infection.”
Amy’s stomach fluttered at the thought of him caring for her while she slept. Perhaps she should let him know she’d awakened…
No! He’d take her away, ship her to France, and she wasn’t ready to go. Aunt Elizabeth was kind, but she’d smothered Amy with concern following her mother’s death. She couldn’t face that yet; she needed a few days to think about things, to come to some kind of peace within herself.
Better to pretend she still slept.
“It won’t be a simple matter to find a chaperone in London right now,” Amy heard Kendra pointing out. “And you cannot just plop her on a ship by herself.”
“That’s true,” he admitted grudgingly.
“You’d better go,” Kendra advised. “The wagon is packed, and the children are waiting. She’s not going to magically wake up, and even if she did, it would take her too long to get ready. She hasn’t eaten in two days.”
“More like four days,” Colin grumbled. The voices receded, accompanied by footsteps. “I suppose you’re right.”
“We’ll have her ready and waiting when you return,” Amy strained to hear Kendra say before the voices faded away entirely.
Amazingly, Amy Goldsmith woke up the minute Colin’s wagon rattled over the drawbridge.
SEVENTEEN
“I RETURNED to take her to Dover and put her on a ship, and hang it, that’s what I’m going to do!”
After three days spent weeping, thinking, and healing, Amy had approached Kendra that very afternoon and shyly asked about joining the family for supper. She’d been certain she felt ready for some human interaction.
But now that Colin was home, she wasn’t so sure.
In the corridor outside the drawing room, she stood frozen in place, listening. The Chases made an incredible racket. Amy and her parents had rarely shouted at one another, but this family seemed to use shouting as their main mode of communication. Even when they’d discussed her at her bedside, she reflected, they’d shouted in whispers.
Tonight, they were none so circumspect.
“I promised her, Colin!” she heard Kendra wail. “I promised she could stay here until she’s ready.”
“Ready? What on earth is that supposed to mean? She’s awake, she’s ready.”
“I’m not quite
certain she’s awake,” Ford’s scratchy, adolescent voice put in, with more than a little amusement. “She’s been wandering around like a ghost.”
Amy winced. Was that what they thought of her?
“She has not!” Kendra leapt to Amy’s defense. “Her father just died, for heaven’s sake. I promised her.”
“A pox on your promises! I need to get back to Greystone. I needed to be there a week ago.”
“Jason?” By the tone of Kendra’s voice, Amy imagined her looking toward her brother beseechingly.
“A Chase promise is not given lightly.” Jason, the voice of reason.
“A pox on you, too!”
“I agree with them, Colin. Promises aside, she’s in no state for travel.” So Ford was on her side as well.
“A pox on all three of you! I don’t care who agrees with whom. I brought her here, and I’ll take her away when I please.”
“I promised her!”
“You sound like one of those newfangled cuckoo clocks, Kendra. ‘I promised her, I promised her, I promised her.’ Well, cuckoo all you want; I’m not changing my mind. We’re leaving come morning. Where is she? You said she was coming to supper.”
Amy took a step back down the corridor.
“Your arrival probably scared her into the next county!” Kendra yelled.
“You’re both acting like children!” Amy heard Jason shout while she steadily backed away from the room. “Colin, this is out of your hands. Go to Greystone in the morning. I’ll arrange for Mrs. Goldsmith’s travel when she’s ready. Kendra, go fetch her. We’ll meet you in the dining room in half an hour.”
Amy fled up the stairs to her chamber and was sitting primly on the edge of her bed when Kendra arrived.
Her friend stood in the doorway, frowning. “It’s nearly time for supper. You’re…not planning to wear that gown, are you?”
Amy looked down to her skirts. The lavender dress had been laundered and pressed while she slept, but there were a few tiny holes where embers had landed, and little gray spots where the soot had stained it permanently. She’d worn it three days straight already.
Her face burned. “I haven’t another,” she said to her lap.
“Wait here a moment.” Kendra started to leave, then reappeared in the doorway. “Oh, Colin is back.” She disappeared again, yelling “Jane!” as she went.
Wondering what Kendra was up to, Amy ran her hand down the gilt bedpost beside her for what seemed like the millionth time since she’d awakened in this beautiful room a few days ago. It wasn’t the costliness of the gold that stole her breath, for gold was so soft and pliable that she could hammer a single ounce into a hundred square feet of gold leaf. But she thought the intricately carved bed looked like nothing so much as a gigantic, exquisite piece of jewelry, and—with a fresh stab of grief—she wished she could show it to her father.
All of the room’s furnishings were gilt, marble, or golden brocade. Amy felt like she was living in Queen Catharine’s bedchamber.
A floral fragrance suffused the air. She shuffled her smoke-damaged shoes where they rested on a plush patterned carpet of brown, cream and gold. At home, the floors had been polished wood. Her family had owned two precious Oriental carpets, but the larger one had adorned a wall, the smaller, a table. Before arriving at Cainewood, she’d never considered actually walking on anything so expensive as a carpet.
Kendra came back leading Jane, a plain-faced young maid with a kind smile and an armful of dresses. Kendra grabbed a yellow one from the pile and held it up to Amy’s cheek. “No, too sallow,” she muttered, tossing it aside. The next was peach. “Too pale.” Jane handed her another, a burgundy satin. “Perfect,” Kendra declared.
Before Amy could protest, her gown was removed and Kendra’s dropped over her head. A rose scent wafted from the fabric. Wiggling into the dress, she inhaled the luxurious fragrance, thinking the Chases lived a different life indeed.
It wasn’t her life, though. Her life would never feel complete without her craft. Without the thrill of working raw stones and metal into lasting bits of beauty.
Jane laced up the bodice, attached the stomacher, and tucked up the skirt to reveal a shell-pink underskirt. She plucked Amy’s chemise through the slashed sleeves, which were caught together at intervals with pink ribbons. Then she seated Amy before the oval gilt-framed mirror and began fussing with her hair.
“I cannot figure out how to plait it properly.” Amy tugged up her lace-edged chemise to fill in the gown’s low neckline. “Our maid used to entwine ribbons somehow.”
“Oh, curls are the fashion now.” Kendra waved a hand. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”
What was she going to do? Amy stared at her reflection. Without her father to force the issue, the one thing she wouldn’t do was marry Robert Stanley. She would have to write soon to tell him so.
“Not entirely.” She sat very still as Jane wielded a hot curling iron. “Go to Paris, to my aunt and uncle’s jewelry shop, is what I should do.” She toyed with a bottle on the marble-topped dressing table. “I promised my father I’d never give up my craft…and jewelry is my life. I know no other.”
“Well, you needn’t leave until you feel ready. I promised you that.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes met Kendra’s in the looking glass. “You’re a good friend.”
Jane tied a pink ribbon in Amy’s hair and stepped back to view her handiwork. “What do you think?” She reached out and tweaked a curl.
“Beautiful,” Kendra said.
Amy gazed at her reflection, touching a finger to her lips. The lips Colin had kissed. Maybe, just maybe, she would find a young man—another jeweler—in France. A jeweler who could make her feel like Colin did.
“No time for cosmetics,” Kendra said with a sigh. “We’re late already.”
EIGHTEEN
“WHERE ARE they all?” Ford lifted the decanter of wine. “Kendra and Amy I can credit—girls always take forever to ready themselves. But Colin—”
Jason wrested the wine from Ford and, with a meaningful look, refilled his youngest brother’s goblet only halfway. “Speaking of Colin, I think Kendra is scheming to match him with Amethyst Goldsmith.”
“Huh?” Ford shook his head. “Whyever would Kendra do that?”
“I’m sure I don’t know. Mrs. Goldsmith has no fortune to offer. It’s debatable whether a well-to-do merchant could meet Greystone’s financial needs, and now that her family’s shop has burned to the ground, the question is moot.”
Ford sipped. “She’s quite pretty, though.”
“What on earth has that got to do with it?” Jason lifted his goblet. “I know Priscilla doesn’t top Kendra’s list of favorite people, but for her to push this match—” He stopped and took a quick swallow of wine. “Colin, there you are.”
Colin narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “What were you two speaking of?”
Ford jumped in. “We were just wondering if you’d managed to match up all the children with their families in London?”
“Yes—and no.” Colin took his seat. “It seems the littlest one, Mary, is an orphan. Her parents both died in the plague. Neighbors had taken her in, but now that they’re homeless…” He shrugged. “I brought her back with me.”
Jason nearly spilled his wine. “You cannot be planning to keep her?”
“Priscilla would never put up with it,” Ford put in.
Colin flashed him a scathing glance. “No, I’m not planning to keep her.” He turned to Jason. “I was hoping you could find her a home in the village.”
“I expect I can.” Jason’s hand came up and smoothed his mustache, his eyes thoughtful. “But couldn’t you have left her at a foundling home in London?”
“I could have, I suppose.” Colin reached for the decanter. “The authorities are handling such problems. But I hadn’t the heart to leave her in such chaos. Moorfields is a sad scene. The grass is littered with rescued belongings that people are wary of relinquishing, covered in
ashes—”
When Kendra and Amy walked in, Colin paused midsentence and stared.
Jason cleared his throat and kicked his brother beneath the table. “Colin?”
“Um, yes.” Colin’s hand dropped, and the wine decanter thudded to the mahogany surface. He blinked and came back to life. “Good evening, Amy.”
“Good evening,” Amy murmured, not quite looking at him.
“Won’t you sit down?” Jason waved his hand, and a servant began ladling soup while two others pulled out ladder-backed chairs on either side of the rectangular table, at the end where the Chase brothers had seated themselves.
Kendra craftily slipped into the chair beside her twin, leaving Amy no choice but to sit next to Colin. As she seated herself, Colin smiled and offered her wine.
In the guise of reaching for a piece of cake, Kendra leaned close to Jason. “Look at the two of them together,” she whispered in his ear. “You’d have to be addlepated not to notice.”
“I heard that!” Colin’s face was aflame, his eyes trained down, avoiding Amy’s.
Amy just looked confused.
“Colin was just telling us about returning the children to their families,” Ford said a little too brightly. “It sounds a mess out there.”
“It’s getting organized somewhat,” Colin told his soup. “Charles has arranged for public buildings to store the goods of the homeless, and provided army tents and bread, all without charge. It was impossible to get about to find anyone, but they’ve set up a missing persons area. I waited there until all the children were claimed—all except Mary, that is.”
A frown appeared between Kendra’s brows. “The curly-haired girl with the never-ending questions?”
He nodded. “I brought her back with me. If I had a shilling for every question she asked on the way here, I’d be able to restore Greystone tomorrow.”