He looked at Kate, whose head was turned his way but who he knew could not see his tender smile. “There! I have said it out loud, Kate. My mother. For that is who you are—my mother—and who you have always been. And your son loves you. It’s time the world knew, isn’t it?”
He then glanced about the table at his silent rapt audience and his wry smile disappeared, realizing there wasn’t a dry eye amongst the ladies, and that the Duke of Roxton and the Duke of Kinross both had points of color to their cheeks. He took a deep breath and continued, determined to finish this confessional he had started, if for no other reason than he need not say it again. He returned his gaze to Mary, who was quickly drying her lashes, and when she finally looked up at him, handkerchief scrunched in her hand, he said,
“If I may be exceedingly blunt, I will state the obvious so that there can be no further doubts, and then you may do with this confession what you will. Through my natural parents, I am the bastard brother of the Duchess of Roxton, and through her I am uncle to her children, though I make no such claims on them for that is wholly up to their parents to decide. I am also uncle to Sir John—Jack—Cavendish and to the Honorable Theodora Charlotte Cavendish. And if permitted, I would dearly love to claim kinship to my nephew and most particularly to my niece, whose welfare I have done my utmost to nurture and protect.
“There are other Cavendish relatives too numerous to mention, and I do not care one way or the other if those connections acknowledge me or not. The only relatives—the only persons—I do care about are here within these marbled hallways, or up an oak tree in a pirate ship treehouse. But most of all, I hope that this revelation does not make a cake crumb of difference to how you regard me…”
There was an awed silence, and whatever their private feelings on the matter of Christopher Bryce’s paternity, all eyes turned to the Duke, as head of the family and because they were sitting in his house. But it was Mary who shattered the stillness. She took a series of shallow breaths and collapsed back onto her chair, the handkerchief pressed to her mouth. Christopher immediately poured her out a glass of wine, put it into her hand, and told her to take small sips, which she did. She then pushed the glass back at him and stared up through her lashes with a pout.
“You do realize you’ve made my headache a hundred times worse!”
He grinned sheepishly. “I don’t doubt it.”
“And what a complete ninnyhammer I’ve been for not seeing what was before my eyes—your eyes, in fact! And one of your best features too.”
“One of…? Will you tell me the others…?”
“No! Well—not now. Not here. Why? Oh why?” she added in an altogether different voice, and loud enough for everyone to hear, though that had not been her intention, “Why would you foolishly believe I would think less of you because of this stain, this blemish of birth which was not of your making, you ridiculous man?! I thought you knew me better—that we—knew each other better than to consider such a revelation any more an impediment than the fact you are a Cotswolds squire! And you can believe me when I tell you that to my mother your polluted blood is as nothing when compared to your rustic roots! As for my family—to this family, and to my brothers, and to His Grace and Cousin Duchess—it is your character and your devotion that are most important. Is that not so, Mme la Duchesse?”
“Just so, ma petite,” Antonia replied gently.
Mary let her shoulders slump, and overcome, put her face in her hands. Yet just as quickly she wiped her face dry, and with a sniff sat up straight. She took a quick glance about the table and saw that her family had eased back onto their chairs and were pretending to do anything but eavesdrop, but were in fact intently listening and watching her and Christopher. She went to get to her feet, and Christopher pulled back her chair before one of the liveried footmen standing to attention up against the wall could get to the chair first.
“Roxton,” Mary said, mustering her dignity. “If we are to put Mr. Bryce’s plan to rescue Teddy into effect today, we need to do so in the next hour, or there won’t be enough light or time to prepare the pavilion—”
“How right you are, Mary,” agreed the Duke, coming to life. “I’ll tell you all about it on the way to Crecy,” he said quietly to the Duchess. He frowned when she was unresponsive. “Are you all right, Deb?”
“I think I am…Yes! I truly am. Though I don’t know what surprises me more,” she whispered into her husband’s ear. “That I have gained a brother, or that Cousin Mary and my new brother are deeply in love.”
The rest of the diners had put aside their napkins and were making movements to leave the table when Mary startled them into immobility by making a speech,
“Do you have anything you wish to say to Mr. Bryce, Your Grace? Indeed, do any of you have anything to say? Or I will presume, and so will he and Lady Paget, that by your silence you accept his confessional and that nothing further needs to be said on the matter. We shall go on as before. Though, in my case, while I would dearly love Teddy to know she has an uncle, it would be best left until she is of an age to understand that not all families are created in the same way.”
“Hear! Hear!” Jonathon exclaimed, applauding Mary, and with a wink at Christopher. “Well said, my lady. Well said.”
Everyone waited to see what Roxton would say and do in response. He looked to his wife, and when the Duchess smiled at him and squeezed his arm and then smiled at Mary and Christopher, his supposition was confirmed. He stepped forward and for the second time that afternoon stuck out his hand to Christopher Bryce.
“Welcome to the family!”
TWENTY-NINE
MARY PACED BACK and forth at the base of the ancient oak, while Christopher climbed the ladder into the treehouse. Everything and everyone was in readiness at the pavilion. It now only remained for Christopher to persuade Teddy to join them there.
CHRISTOPHER STUCK HIS head up into the treehouse and called out. “Hallo? May I come aboard?”
There was the shuffle of boots on boards above his head and voices, and then Teddy appeared on the ladder that connected the two levels, messy braids framing her face. Her eyes went wide. Her ears had not deceived her! It was her Uncle Bryce’s beloved voice. As she scuttled down the ladder, Christopher hauled himself up through the trap door into the treehouse. He had no time to get to his feet. Teddy flung herself at him full force, throwing her arms around him and clinging on for dear life, as if she’d fallen overboard in high seas and found the only raft capable of rescuing her from drowning.
“Now there’s a greeting!” he said with a laugh, and put out a hand to stop himself falling backwards down the manhole, an arm about Teddy. He managed to keep them both upright and slid across the boards to sit cross-legged against the railing. “How is my ray of sunshine? Your mama and I have missed you.”
Teddy muffled something into his waistcoat, where she had buried her face. Christopher tried to detach her, to talk to her. But then he realized she was crying. Great aching sobs of relief wracked her thin little body, and knowing her to be overwrought, Christopher let her sob. He lightly stroked her hair, telling her over and over that she was safe, that he would always protect her, and that her mother was at the base of the oak waiting to give her a hug.
He stayed on the floor with Teddy in his lap, she no longer sobbing but still distressed enough to keep her face hidden, when two youths came down the ladder from the second level. Jack Cavendish and Henri-Antoine were easy to tell apart. Jack had the Cavendish brown eyes and tussel of dark auburn curls, while his best friend Harry was taller, still had to grow into his strong nose, and was fastidiously neat in his appearance for a boy of sixteen.
Both found it awkward to bear witness to this emotional reunion between Teddy and a gentleman they had never met but knew to be her Uncle Bryce, because she had blurted out his name before scurrying down the ladder, and they had heard enough about him from her to feel as if they knew him already. They remained respectfully silent and returned Christopher’s no
d.
“Would you be so good as to inform the Lady Mary we’ll be down in a few minutes. You’ll find the family assembled over at the pavilion.”
Henri-Antoine needed no further encouragement to quit the treehouse. But Jack hung back. After collecting his viola in its case where he had left it in a corner, he came over to Christopher, a frown between his brows, a glance at Teddy, who still had her face buried in Christopher’s waistcoat.
“Will she be all right, sir? I mean truly all right, if you understand my meaning…”
Christopher did understand, and he smiled up at the boy and nodded.
“I do. Thank-you. A little bit of magic, and Teddy and everyone and everything at Treat will return to the way it was.”
“Magic, sir?”
Jack was curious. Christopher hoped Teddy would be too. Henri-Antoine was not. From the trap door, where he had started to descend the ladder, but waited for Jack to join him, he rolled his eyes at Christopher’s statement and signaled to Jack to hurry up with a jerk of his head. But when Jack ignored him, Henri-Antoine let out a heavy sigh and disappeared down the ladder without another word. Christopher was just grateful the boy’s skepticism remained unspoken.
When Christopher did not answer him at once, Jack thought it best to explain himself, so the gentleman knew he was sincere, and more importantly, that Teddy did not think ill of him.
“I’ve never had the good fortune to come across any magic myself. I know the locals around here say Swan Island is a magical island where the king and queen of the fairies live, protected by the ghost of an old hermit. The island is off-limits, so I’ve never seen these fairies or the ghost.”
“Not seeing them hasn’t stopped the locals from believing they exist.”
“True, sir. But Harry says there’s more truth in the adage, ‘Seeing is believing’.”
“I presume Harry attends church every Sunday?”
Jack smiled. “He does indeed, sir. I should have said so from the outset—I’m Jack. I know who you are, you’re Mr. Bryce and I have a lot to thank you for, for looking after my inheritance.”
“I’m glad we’ve finally met, Jack. And you’re welcome to visit any time. I’m sure Teddy would love to show you around Abbeywood, and perhaps take you for a ride into the Puzzlewood. If you’re fortunate you may even catch sight of a fairy or two. What do you think, Teddy?”
When Teddy did not respond immediately but snuggled in closer, Jack said to fill the silence,
“I’d like that. And I’d like to visit the Puzzlewood. Teddy told us about the fairy folk who’ve lived there since before King Arthur’s time, and who guard travelers against getting lost. And about the phantom armies of cavaliers and roundheads who come out of the mist each year to fight on the old battlefield near the village green. And then there’s the cavalier captain who haunts Tanner’s cidermill, cut down by one of Cromwell’s soldiers while he was sleeping when he should have been guarding the mill. The whole Tanner family were slaughtered, bar the youngest son who hid himself up a chimney…”
“Teddy has kept you entertained with stories of home. Plenty of magical places in our little corner of the country, isn’t there, Teddy?” Christopher smiled up at the boy and said with a wink, “And thank-you for keeping Teddy company until my arrival, and for providing her with some musical entertainment. No doubt Teddy told you I’m a woeful musician, so it would’ve been a pleasant change for her to hear such a talented musician.”
“That’s a fib, Uncle Bryce! You’re not wo-woeful! You play the mandora better than anyone.” Teddy sat up, brushing the hair out of her eyes, and quickly wiped her face. She glanced warily over her shoulder, embarrassed Jack would think her babyish and a weeper. “Jack plays a-a viola, which is different altogether, but he does play it very well.”
“Then I hope he brings it along when he comes to visit us.”
“I will, sir.” Jack looked at Teddy. “I will visit Abbeywood one day… That’s a promise. But I want you to be there to show me all the places you’ve told me about. I’ll see you both over at the pavilion.” He made Christopher a quaint bow and took his leave, viola in its case slung over a shoulder onto his back while he descended the ladder.
In the stillness that followed, voices were heard coming up through the trap door. It was Mary talking to Jack. Both Christopher and Teddy recognized her voice, and it gave them both a sense of comfort, and also one of urgency to want to join her. But first Christopher needed to reassure Teddy all was right with her world, and to secure her confidence and trust regarding the ogre she was convinced was the Duke of Roxton’s true form.
He looked down at her and smoothed the mussed hair back off her face to say gently,
“Teddy, you do know that your mama and I love you very much, and that we would never let any harm come to you, don’t you?” When she nodded, he smiled and said gravely, “Your granny’s only wish in bringing you here was for you to meet your cousins. She had no notion of what your papa had told you about this place, and about the Duke, or she would never have brought you here at all.”
“But you believe me, don’t you, Uncle Bryce?”
“I do. And so does your mama.”
“You told Mama? But she is under the Duke’s spell so cannot know the truth!”
“That’s what your papa thought, too. But would it surprise you to know that your mama has always known the real truth about the Duke?
“The real truth?”
“Yes, the real truth… Would it be all right with you if we spoke about the ogre?”
She nodded but added with a frown, “Jack believes me. Harry doesn’t.”
“That’s because Jack wants to believe in magic and Harry does not. If you do not believe in magic, then you cannot believe there are such beings as fairies, gnomes, ogres, and spells, can you?”
“Everyone at Abbeywood knows there’s magic, even the vicar. Jack’s right. Harry does say that if you can’t see it, it can’t be real. He’s angry because I said the Duke is an ogre. But I didn’t make it up. That’s what Papa told me.”
“He did. But Harry’s anger is understandable. He loves his brother. I would be angry if someone said to me that you or your mama were witches, because I know that is not true. Perhaps Harry knows it is not true, too? After all, he has lived with his brother his whole life, so knows him better than anyone—better than we do, and better than your papa did. I just wonder—because I have given it a great deal of thought, too—but I wonder if perhaps your papa may have got it wrong somehow… that the Duke may not be the ogre you think him?”
Teddy frowned, a deep crease between her brows.
“But—but why would Papa lie to me? He said the Duke was an ogre who in his true form has big black eyes and a long tail like the devil. Papa said one look in his eyes and I’d be bewitched and in his power forever and ever, and that he’d lock me up. I’d never see Abbeywood again!”
Christopher squeezed her hand. “I’d never let that happen, Teddy. You’ll always be free,” adding in a measured tone, “Perhaps your papa didn’t lie to you. Perhaps that’s what he believed. I wonder if you would consider a different possibility. Will you hear me out?” When she nodded, he continued. “I wonder if perhaps your papa believed the Duke was an ogre because it was your papa, and not the Duke, who was under the spell of this ogre. That this ogre cast a spell on your papa to make him think your mama’s cousin was an ogre in disguise? Do you think that could be what happened?”
Teddy took a deep breath as she thought about what she was told. She shrugged. “Mayhap,” she agreed reluctantly.
“It would explain why your papa never came here to visit, and why your papa and only your papa believed the Duke to be an ogre. After all, your mama, your granny, Jack, your Uncle Dair, who was married here to your Aunt Rory—and she is so sweet-natured she is practically a fairy herself—and Mme la Duchesse, who is the Duke’s mama—none of these persons believe the Duke to be an ogre, do they?” When Teddy shook her head, he ad
ded in the same non-committal tone, “And his wife and children love him very much. I’m told you were there when the children greeted their father in the ballroom. It was raining outside and everyone was playing indoors… Were they happy to see their papa?”
“They were all laughing, and Juliet—she’s the only girl—she ran up to him and he picked her up and twirled her round and round, like you used to do with me when I was little. Do you remember?”
“I do.”
They sat still and quiet for a moment, and then Teddy said, “Mme la Duchesse has promised me a puppy of my own. Will Mama let me take the puppy home with me do you think?”
“Your mother has already agreed to it.”
Teddy shifted to sit opposite Christopher, eyes wide and smiling for the first time since he had climbed up into the treehouse.
“Has she? Oh! I can’t wait to show you! Will you come and see the puppies with me? There are six and they are all the dearest little dogs, and Mme la Duchesse said I could choose whichever one I wanted.”
“That must have been a very difficult choice to make.”
“It was! I don’t think I’ve had to decide anything so hard, ever. But I finally chose a black bitch because she is the runt of the litter, and being small, I thought Mama would not mind her so much, and would be less frightened of her.”
“That was thoughtful of you. Have you decided on a name?”
“Mme la Duchesse says all her dogs are given Latin names and she drew up a list for me. I chose Nera, which means black. Jack has a dog called Nero. Nero’s a whippet too, and seven years old. Mme la Duchesse said Nera was a very good name for my puppy. What do you think, Uncle Bryce?”
“I agree. It is a lovely name, and Silvia and Carlo will think so too. Oh! And I nearly forgot to tell you: Kate is here—
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