“Here at Treat?” Teddy could not keep the breathless excitement from her voice. “Truly?”
“Truly. She has come to see you, and been invited to stay for Christmas. We—your mother, you, Kate, and I—have all been invited to stay as the guests of Mme la Duchesse and the Duke of Kinross here at Crecy Hall. But there will be occasions when we will travel across to the big house, to attend church, and whatever Christmas celebrations there are for the children and the rest of the family. But only if you are comfortable with these arrangements. Of course, the Duke would very much like all of us to be part of the family gatherings, but if you wish to stay behind here, then that will be up to you.”
“Do you like him, Uncle Bryce? Do you like the Duke?”
“Do you really want to know what I think?” When Teddy nodded, he smiled. “I do like the Duke, Teddy. I believe he is a good man with a good heart.”
“Then why would an ogre put a spell on Papa to think the Duke an evil man who would want to lock me up?”
“I wish I had an answer for you, but I cannot with any certainty tell you why. Perhaps your papa upset the ogre in some way? What I do know is that ogres are mean for the sake of being mean. They exhibit all the worst traits of human kind: Jealousy, pride, vanity, greed, slothfulness, and they are miserable for its own sake. They certainly don’t want people to be happy. In fact, they are quite the opposite in nature to good fairies, who are kind, loving, giving, and want everyone to be happy—
“Just like Aunt Rory, and Mme la Duchesse, and Mama!”
“And you.”
“Me?” Teddy stuck out her bottom lip and made a noise signaling her incredulity, a noise her mother would not have approved, but which made Christopher grin. “Uncle Bryce, I can’t be a good fairy, I’m not pretty enough. Everyone knows good fairies have hair the color of spun gold and big blue eyes and skin as smooth and as white as whipped cream.”
“Not the fairies I’ve seen,” Christopher stated emphatically, which made Teddy sit up and take notice. “The fairies I know have ruby kisses to their cheeks, and sometimes across their nose, too. And their hair is the color of spun copper or sometimes the same dark rich red as ripe cherries. And their eyes are big, but not blue. They are the color of the harebell, which is more purple than blue. Those fairies are uncommon and the most beautiful of all.”
“They must look just like Mama.”
Christopher touched his nose in a knowing way. “Just like your Mama.”
Teddy hunched her shoulders and smiled. Christopher smiled back. And then both of them were startled when a beloved voice from the trapdoor said conversationally,
“You forgot to mention fairies have wings. Though I do not possess any, and wish that I did because this is the highest I have ever climbed in my life and I am very sure I shall fall if you don’t help me up or take me down at once!”
WHEN MARY WAS back on firm ground at the base of the oak, she pulled the woolen shawl closer about her shoulders to ward off the chill night air, now that the sun was low on the horizon, and looked up into the tree, anxiously waiting for Teddy to join her and Christopher. Teddy scrambled down the ladder as one who was used to going up and down it all day long, and eagerly fell into her mother’s open arms.
Mary’s reunion with her daughter had not been as emotionally fraught for Teddy as it had been with Christopher, and her daughter seemed in much better spirits than she had expected from a child scared out of her wits by her father’s vile lies about her cousin Roxton. She knew this was all due to Christopher’s careful handling of the situation. She could have hugged and kissed him in thanks just for putting a smile on Teddy’s face, never mind he seemed to have persuaded her that Roxton was not a monster who wanted to lock her up after all. Teddy skipped alongside her mother, who had shyly taken the crooked arm Christopher offered her, and proceeded to tell her all about Cordelia and Scipio’s litter, and how Uncle Bryce liked the name Nera for her puppy just as much as Mme la Duchesse, and would Mama come with her to visit the puppies to see Nera for herself tonight…?
They arrived at the pavilion in time to witness several gardeners scrambling about, putting the finishing touches to a bonfire positioned in the middle of the lawn between the pavilion and the lake. Under supervision of their nurses and tutors, the Roxton children were restlessly waiting for the bonfire to be lit, along with half a dozen children belonging to the household servants invited to join in the celebration of the winter solstice. All the adults were gathered on the pavilion steps, in capes, hoods, fur muffs, and gloves. Betsy broke from the cluster of upper servants with Mary’s fur-lined cape. Christopher put it about her shoulders and affixed the clasp, and then they went forward to join the rest of the family.
Christopher noticed Teddy hanging back. So he put out his gloved hand to her with a smile, and she eagerly took it, but he did not go up the steps with her to join her mother.
“Do you want to come up into the pavilion, or would you rather be with the children by the bonfire? I see Jack and Harry are with them.”
“Where’s Kate?”
“Sitting over there with Mme la Duchesse. Do you want to sit with them?”
Teddy shook her head. Christopher saw that she was scanning the faces of the adults, and he guessed whom she was looking for because she was suddenly still and quiet, and Teddy was never still unless she was ill or upset or nervous.
“There’s the Duke. He’s talking with the other duke. I’d never met a duke before coming here, and now I know two. Are there any more dukes in the family to meet?”
“I don’t think so. Do you want me to come with you to see him? The other is the Duke of Kinross—”
“He’s married to Mme la Duchesse. I like him. Did you know, Uncle Bryce, that he lived in India, and that’s why his skin is brown? He rode elephants, and kept monkeys, and he has a daughter who has hair the same color as mine! And when Mme la Duchesse is not about he smokes a cher—cheroot. He showed me his tinderbox and how he lights his cheroot so he can smoke it. But he said I was to keep it between us because Mme la Duchesse would be displeased with him.” Teddy cocked her head in thought. “But I think Mme la Duchesse knows about the cheroots, Uncle Bryce, don’t you? And I don’t think she is displeased with him at all. I think he was funning with me.”
“You may be right.”
Teddy took a breath and nodded and said resolutely,
“I want to see the Duke of Roxton, and I do want you to come with me.”
“Of course.”
They went hand in hand across the front of the pavilion steps to where the Dukes of Roxton and Kinross were deep in conversation, and stepped into the pool of warm light from the burning tapers and waited to be noticed. It was Deb Roxton who saw them first, and had a quick word in her husband’s ear. Conversations amongst the adults hushed, the only noise coming from the children who were getting restless down by the bonfire. Kinross stepped back, and Roxton, seeing Teddy and Christopher, went slowly down the steps to meet them. He flicked out the skirts of his velvet frock coat and sat on a low step, so that his face was level with Teddy’s, who had come up one step and now stood before him.
She let go of Christopher’s hand and after looking up at him and receiving a smile of reassurance she went forward and dropped a curtsy before bravely raising her eyes to meet the Duke’s gaze. And it was then that she noticed what she had failed to see in the ballroom, all because she had been too scared and upset to notice anything other than that the Duke was tall and wide and loomed large over her. But now, looking into his face, she saw that he had a friendly smile and kind eyes, eyes that were the color of emeralds. He had the same kind green eyes as his mother, Mme la Duchesse, who, to Teddy’s mind, if anyone was queen of the fairies it was she.
So when the Duke smiled and put out his hand to her, she smiled back and tentatively took hold of his fingers. He did nothing more than that, and remained very still. But it was all that was required for Teddy to let out a little sigh of relief. Because a
lthough she trusted Uncle Bryce’s word that the Duke was not the ogre her father had told her he was, there was something about the power of touch, that if something were to happen to turn the Duke into an ogre, it was this, and she would see him alter before her eyes.
But when he remained as he was, her heart quietened. And when the Duke bowed over her hand, Teddy’s shoulders relaxed. She took another glance over her shoulder, to reassure herself Christopher was still there, and then she bravely leaned into the Duke and put her cheek on his shoulder. He lightly held her, not wanting to frighten her, or make her uncomfortable, and they stayed that way for a few moments, before Teddy straightened and glanced about at the silent adults at the Duke’s back. She saw her mother wipe a tear from her eye, then smile brightly, and she smiled back.
There wasn’t a dry eye in the pavilion.
“I’m so glad you and your mother and your uncle could be here with all the family tonight, Teddy,” the Duke said quietly, a glance up at Christopher who was again at Teddy’s side. “Because do you know what special day it is today?” When Teddy shook her head, he said, “It’s the winter solstice. A very special night Mme la Duchesse my mother began when I was a small boy, much younger than you—and that was a very long time ago now.”
“Winter solstice? Is that the longest night of the year?”
“It is.”
“Then I do know something about it because Cook says that if you light a fire on winter solstice, it helps rid the house of the evil spirits that have been lurking in dark places. And she said that from now until spring the days become longer until it is spring and there is sunshine and then the evil spirits have nowhere to hide; that’s when the good spirits come to stay.” She glanced over her shoulder at the unlit bonfire. “Is that why you have a bonfire, too?”
“Something like that, yes. Mme la Duchesse had the ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia in mind, but I like Cook’s explanation,” Roxton replied. “You’re very clever, Teddy. At your age I don’t think Jack or Harry had any idea why we lit a fire on this of all nights, nor did they enquire. They just liked running about and watching a giant fireball.”
“That’s because they’re boys. Uncle Bryce will tell you girls are smarter than boys. Isn’t that true, Uncle Bryce?”
The Duke chuckled and so did the rest of the assembled adults, Roxton adding, “I agree with you and your uncle. And so does everyone here. The females in our family have always been far smarter than us fellows.” He nodded to a liveried servant who stood as a sentinel at the base of the steps holding a lighted taper, and then said to Teddy, including Christopher in his conversation, “I wonder, Teddy, if you and your Uncle Bryce would do the honors and light the bonfire?”
“Can Mama come with us, too?”
“Of course. That’s a splendid idea.”
Rejoining the adults on the top step of the pavilion, Roxton stood with his wife behind the chaise where his mother and Lady Paget sat, and watched Teddy walk towards the bonfire, holding aloft the lighted taper, her mother and Christopher a step behind. And while everyone from the adults in the pavilion to the children running about on the lawn in the fading light watched mesmerized as Teddy dipped the flame to the bonfire, Antonia’s gaze was on the couple flanking Teddy, and most particularly on Squire Bryce who had his hands clasped behind his back. For all his outward appearance of elegant calm, his thumbs would not still, and that telling sign made Antonia smile.
She looked over her shoulder at her son, and put up a hand, which he took in his, and she gave him a little tug so that he leaned in to hear what she had to say.
“Julian, it is time to write to Cornwallis.”
He knew to what she was alluding, but he said it aloud anyway, and with surprise, though he wasn’t at all surprised by her demand or the reason for it. “You do realize this will be the third Special License I’ve requested in eight months.”
Antonia shrugged. “That is not important. What is important is that your family is happy. Yes?”
“I agree.”
“And Mary deserves to be happy.”
“I agree with that too.” He hesitated, a glance over his mother’s coiffure at Lady Paget. But as that lady and Deb were deep in conversation, he felt able to proceed. So he went on his haunches beside the chaise and said with a frown, “If she marries him, there will be consequences that will be beyond my—our—power to control. There will be people who will turn their backs on her regardless of our public support for the match—”
“Julian—”
“Maman, there is only so much I—we—can do. There will be houses, gatherings, social occasions to which she won’t be invited, least of all welcome as the wife of a squire, never mind as a couple. And who knows if she’ll ever be received at Court again.”
“Julian, I know all this, but—”
“And they’ll be talked about, and not in a nice way. I wouldn’t be surprised if news of their marriage ends up in the newssheets to become gossip fodder for the masses. Ghastly petty scribblers! And God help them if it ever gets out about his base birth—”
“Assez! Julian! All this I know only too well, mon chou. You worry too much as always. Do you think she cares? That he does? Perhaps you forget that your own grandparents, your father’s parents, were disowned by their families. Your papa’s maman—your French grandmère—was forbidden the French court by Louis himself. She never went to Versailles again. Monseigneur was a boy before his maman’s parents acknowledged the marriage had even taken place, and that your papa was not the product of a liaison, and that he was not in fact a bastard. Mon Dieu. Can you believe such a thing? It was horrible for them, and truly horrible for your papa, who was deeply affected by it all. He saw daily the anguish his mother suffered at being denied the comfort and company of her mother and her sisters. But we, Julian, are not like that. We support our family and their choices. And as long as Mary has her family, and we welcome him, and they love each other and are happy, then that is all that should matter, hein?”
“I don’t disagree with you, ma mère. And I will give my blessing to the match if Mary does indeed want to marry her squire. But why can’t their union wait for the reading of the banns? It would put a more respectable distance between the death of her father and her marriage. There does need to be some period of mourning for his lordship, regardless of what we all thought of Strathsay as a man. In fact, I would prefer they wait until after your happy event, and the christening. Dair will have returned, and can attend his sister’s wedding ceremony. So why do they require a Special License?”
When his mother giggled behind her fan, eyes bright, his cheeks warmed and he knew to what she was alluding but he could not quite believe it. He looked out across the lawn to the blazing bonfire and the silhouettes of adults and children gathered about the fiery orange flames, but could not discern which of the couples was his cousin Mary and her squire. He looked back at his mother, who was still regarding him with amusement.
“Good—God! How—I don’t know how you know these things… Are you certain?” When Antonia put up her brows in response but said nothing, he wiped a hand over his mouth. “It is Mary we’re talking about. And he strikes me as much a stickler for the proprieties as I am. From reading his letters these past two years, I think he has all the hallmarks of a hair-splitting pedant!”
“I do not doubt you will become firm friends,” Antonia quipped dryly, her dimple showing itself. She shut her fan with a snap and squeezed her son’s wrist. “I am not talking about him as a squire, or you as a duke, mon chou, or that the two of you have a great drive to do your duty. I am talking about you as men. I am very sure that he is just like you in that regard, too. Just as Monseigneur he had a strong physical appetite, so too do you, and so does M’sieur Bryce. Such men when they fall deeply in love do not think of consequences when the need to satisfy—”
“All right, Maman. I’m convinced,” Roxton interrupted curtly, and shot to his feet. “A Special License it is. I’ll write to C
ornwallis tomorrow.”
“Mon Dieu! Not yet… Julian!”
“But you just said they needed a Special—Mon Dieu!” It was only then that he realized she was clutching her round belly and her eyes were squeezed tight. “Maman!? Maman, are you all—”
“Jonathon! Jonathon. Where is Jonathon?”
Those nearby heard the anguish in Antonia’s tone, saw the Duke look wildly about as if he’d lost something, and the bonfire was forgotten by all in an instant. Everyone crowded in around her.
“Stand back! Stand back! Give her air!”
It was Kinross, and he shouldered his way to his wife’s side and dropped to his bended knee. He could see she was in great pain. One hand gripped the side of the chaise hard, knuckles white, the other she had flung out to grip Lady Paget’s hand, needing human contact and reassurance.
Antonia took a few deep breaths and opened her eyes.
“Jonathon, I need—I need—Gabrielle. Please to have her fetched. Immediament!”
“She’s here, sweetheart,” Jonathon said with a reassuring tremulous smile, snatching up her hand and kissing her fingers. “Gabrielle’s here. She knew. Said you were early with your sons, so you’d be early this time, too. She arrived an hour ago and is settling in.” He searched Antonia’s face, eyes troubled and brow furrowed. “But—it is too early, isn’t it?”
Antonia breathed a sigh of relief knowing her previous lady’s maid, who had attended on her at the births of both her sons, had arrived in time for this birth. Seeing the apprehension in Jonathon’s eyes, she managed a smile, but then she again caught her breath as another contraction robbed her of speech. When she could talk, she said breathlessly, “We do not decide these things, mon chéri. The little one she has made up her own mind—It is time.”
THIRTY
KINROSS, ROXTON, Lord Henri-Antoine, and Christopher Bryce sat in a row, perched on the edge of a settee on one side of the drawing room, backs straight, fists on their knees, and staring ahead, silent. Across the room Lady Paget sat by the fireplace, taking tea and talking in hushed tones with Deb Roxton, who was breastfeeding her seven-week-old son, his little lordship’s nurse and a nursery assistant by the draped window with Lord Otto’s traveling crib.
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