Tysen led his daughter down the aisle to where Lord Lancaster and Bishop Arlington of Brighton waited, a twinkle in the bishop’s eye. He had known Tysen since he’d been born, Meggie as well. He was completely bald and the sunlight pouring through the stained-glass window above him sent a wash of colors across his head.
“He looks like God wearing a rainbow,” Meggie said out of the side of her mouth.
“He’s nearly blind,” Tysen said to his daughter as they walked past people who had known her all her life. “Stand as close as possible to him. Tell Thomas to do the same. And don’t stare at his head.”
It was a glorious Friday morning in mid-April, the air was fresh from a rain that had dutifully stopped at midnight the evening before. Clouds were strewn in a very blue sky.
Every Sherbrooke was present, including the earl of Ashburnham and his family come all the way from Scotland. And, of course, Oliver and Jenny from Kildrummy.
There was no one from Thomas Malcombe’s family, but if anyone remarked upon it, it didn’t get to Meggie’s ears. She, herself, believed it for the best. If William had shown up, she just might have kicked him. As for Thomas’s mother, he’d simply said she was ill and left it at that. He was so very alone, she thought that morning as all her aunts helped her dress in her wedding finery. But that would change.
The Vicarage was filled to capacity. Had there been ladders to the rafters, Thomas thought, there would be folk hanging off those as well. All of the boy cousins were staying with him at Bowden Close.
The Sherbrookes were a very popular family. No, it was more than that. Meggie was the daughter of the town, beloved by its denizens. He thought, as he watched her come closer and closer, that he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life. He smiled when she chanced to look at him.
Meggie didn’t look again at Bishop Arlington. She was staring at the man who would be her husband in not more than fifteen minutes from now.
Organ music swelled, so loud the windows rattled a bit. The air was still, fragrant with flowers, many from the Northcliffe Hall greenhouses, brought to Glenclose-on-Rowan by Uncle Douglas and Aunt Alex. So many people, all of them here to wish her well. She passed by the Winters family and felt a stab of concern. There were no smiles on their faces. Even though her father had told her they accepted that William Malcombe was the father of Melissa’s child, they still couldn’t bring themselves to like Thomas Malcombe.
All her boy cousins were seated in one row; Grayson, she knew, was memorizing everything, later to embroider a rousing tale, probably replete with a congregation that were really demons from some pit in Hell and the demons had sprung open the pit just recently, just for Meggie’s wedding. Leo and Max, both looking faintly worried, and she understood that. Everything was different now that they were all grown up. Now they realized just how many years separated all of them from childhood—her marriage underscored this. She wished she could have stopped a moment and hugged them, reassured them. She wanted to tell them that being a grown-up meant change, something to be desired not feared.
There were James and Jason, looking more beautiful than she did, both of them striving to look as austere and distinguished as their father, who, seated in the row ahead of them, looked every inch the powerful earl. Meggie gave him a big grin, which was returned, and which the twins didn’t see. They might have relaxed a bit if they’d seen that smile. Her aunt Alex gave her a small wave with her gloved hand.
Aunt Sophie and Uncle Ryder were to her left, and what with ten of the Beloved Ones coming to Glenclose-on-Rowan, they occupied an entire row, very tightly. Her uncle Ryder’s brilliant Sherbrooke eyes were still wicked, still so startling a blue, that ladies stopped in the middle of the street and stared at him and grinned like idiots. This behavior Aunt Sophie normally ignored, or poked her oblivious spouse in his ribs to make him stop being so damned delicious to the opposite sex. As for Aunt Sophie, she was solid as a rock, always calm no matter the trouble, no matter the pain.
And her godmother, Aunt Sinjun, sitting beside Uncle Colin, Fletcher and Dahling beside them, Dahling a young matron, married to a Scottish baron from the Highlands near Glen Coe way. Phillip was far away in Greece with the Royal Navy, Uncle Colin had told everyone. Phillip, it seemed, was a cartographer, something most all the male cousins had had to look up in the dictionary. Fletcher was now twelve, as magic with horses as Alec was with racing cats. She remembered so long ago how he had renamed her father’s horse. He spoke to horses and they spoke to him. What would he do when he grew up? Meggie wondered. She thought with a pang of his little sister, Jocelyn, who had died while still very young. Thank God Rory had survived.
Jeremy and Charlotte were there, Charlotte well into her pregnancy, smiling, looking utterly beautiful, glowing, Jeremy, so proud, so possessive of her, standing close by her, always. Meggie had greeted them warmly, so very warmly. As for Jeremy, he’d had time to say to her, “I need to speak to you sometime, Meggie.”
She’d nodded, having no intention whatsoever of listening to him lecture her on something, probably on copying dear Charlotte, the perfect obedient subservient wife.
Mary Rose sat between Alec and Rory on the very front row. She was trying to hold Rory still since he was bouncing up and down, wanting, Meggie knew, to walk along beside her. She’d seen him just the day before practicing how to walk. Meggie saw her father try to frown his son down, but then she realized he just couldn’t. It would be like scolding a racing kitten. When Tysen smiled at his son, Rory managed to pull away from his mother and dash to his father and Meggie. Laughter erupted from the congregation. Tysen swooped down and grabbed up his son, even as Rory tried to climb over him to get to Meggie.
Meggie took the little boy’s face between her gloved hands and kissed him, then said, “Rory, will you and our papa both give me away?”
And Rory beamed and said loud enough for everyone in the church to hear, “Oh yes, Meggie, let me, let me. Meggie, is that really you under that white sack?”
Meggie lifted a corner of her beautiful veil and winked at Rory.
There was laughter until finally Bishop Arlington raised his hands.
Rory stood proudly by Tysen until the bishop asked who was giving Meggie away, to which both males replied, “I do.”
More laughter. Meggie looked up to see that her groom was smiling, a relief since he was very pale, probably as scared as she was.
Bishop Arlington had a booming voice that probably reached even the folk down at the tavern. He spoke of all sorts of expectations for Meggie, all blessed and approved by God, which made Meggie want to roll her eyes. She peeked up at Thomas, saw that he was looking quite severe, and so didn’t make a sound.
The marriage service barely lasted fifteen minutes. Now, she, Meggie Sherbrooke, was a countess and Thomas, at Bishop Arlington’s kind direction, was pulling back her veil, kissing her, smiling, looking immensely relieved as he said close to her ear, “You’re mine now, Meggie. Mine.”
“And you are mine, Thomas. Forever.”
And something deep moved in his eyes as he stared down at her, something deep and thick and veiled. He kissed her again, a quick light kiss because there were many people avidly watching. They turned toward the congregation, both smiling so big some feared their jaws would crack.
Meggie said out of the corner of her mouth, “This is so very exciting. Do you think you will drink champagne out of my slipper?”
13
IT WASN’T UNTIL nearly six o’clock that evening when Mary Rose was fastening the small buttons of her traveling gown up Meggie’s back.
“Has Thomas told you where you are spending tonight?”
“No, the man has refused to tell me a thing. Not even a single hint. I have wheedled and promised all sorts of wicked favors if he would just give me one sentence, but he refused. I even offered to put my tongue in his mouth, but he refused to speak a word about it. Oh, forgive me, Mary Rose, I didn’t mean to embarrass you. It’s just that this tongue b
usiness—I think I like it. Ah, I do hope we’re on a packet to Calais, then to Paris. I should love to go to Paris again, Mary Rose. Remember when we went last time? I was thirteen and we walked in the Luxemburg Gardens and visited Versailles and Notre Dame, how magnificent that was, and—”
Mary Rose interrupted her, laughing, “Yes, love, I remember it well.” She sighed then. “I believe I would have preferred to have your father to myself, but I endured having my interfering stepdaughter along.” For just an instant Meggie didn’t laugh at her jest. Mary Rose took Meggie’s face between her hands and kissed her. “I loved you from the moment you rescued me and sneaked me into your bedchamber at Kildrummy. I loved you even more when I heard you try to convince your father that you were innocent as a shorn lamb, that you weren’t hiding a thing from him. And I loved all the excuses your father had to invent to keep you out of our bedchamber at night.
“You have grown into a splendid woman. I want you to be happy with Thomas. I also want a letter from you, but I will give you a week before you have to write it.”
She kissed her again, only to have Meggie’s arms go around her and hug her tight. “Oh goodness, now you will have your own bedchamber with your own husband. Time has gone so quickly, Meggie, so quickly. Savor every moment. Be happy, love.”
And Meggie said, “I knew I would adore you forever when I saw Papa carrying you over his shoulder back into the castle. I was trying desperately to pull your valise back inside, but it was so heavy because of the iron candlesticks.”
Mary Rose laughed. “They weren’t iron, Meggie!”
“I know, but they were very heavy, and I was only ten years old. I will miss you and Papa, Mary Rose. Oh goodness, what about Alec and Rory? Will you be able to manage them? Will—”
“Everything will be all right. They will miss you dreadfully and ask me every day when you are coming for a visit. Don’t worry, love. You are a married lady now and that is a very different thing. Er, Meggie, is there anything you wish perhaps to ask me?”
“About what? Has either of the boys done something you’re not sure about?”
“No, not today. When they are monsters I will simply lock them in the closet beneath the stairs. Now, Meggie—” She paused a moment, pumping herself up. “Would you like to ask me about marital sorts of things? I promised your father I would, er, inquire.”
“Oh. Oh my, Mary Rose, you’re embarrassed!” Meggie laughed, hugged her again as she said, “You know, I think it is rather exciting not knowing much of anything. Thomas does kiss very well. I assume he can continue this lovemaking business efficiently.”
“Yes,” Mary Rose said, her voice dry as the cherrywood armoire in the corner, “I believe that he will as well.”
Meggie said, suddenly appalled, “I cannot imagine speaking to Papa about those sorts of things.” Then she looked thoughtful. “But perhaps you could tell me. Is this tongue in each other’s mouths—is it the done thing? Do you and Papa do it?”
Mary Rose managed not to swallow her own tongue. “Well, as a matter of fact, if you are truly interested, and I suppose that you are since you have such an inquiring mind, well, I imagine that I would have to say yes, it is very much the done thing.” Mary Rose then smiled, flushed, looked at the ceiling, then at the floor, patted Meggie’s back, and picked up her traveling cloak, a rich burgundy velvet Thomas had given her for a wedding gift.
Thomas was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs. He wasn’t smiling. He was, obviously, anxious to be off. She saw all her relatives spread out behind them, all of them speaking and laughing, the dratted boy cousins being idiots, as always. So many beloved faces.
She hugged her father, and it seemed to everyone there that she didn’t want to let him go. Tysen saw that Thomas was looking utterly emotionless, but he’d known the young man long enough to realize that he wanted his new wife and he wanted her five minutes ago. He wanted her to himself, and that, Tysen thought, was something he would simply have to accustom himself to. He also saw Thomas looking several times at Jeremy, and again, there was no expression at all on his face. Tysen wondered, but he couldn’t do anything else. He kissed Meggie once, twice more, then patted her shoulder, and placed her hand on her husband’s arm.
“Be happy, sweetheart,” he said.
Meggie looked down to see Rory tugging on her skirt. She lifted him up high, gave him two smacking loud kisses, and said, “Say hello to your new brother-in-law, Rory.”
Rory looked over at Thomas, studied him for a very long time, and said finally, “You are the man who saved my life with that volcano medicine.”
“Yes, I suppose I am,” Thomas said.
“You will give Meggie everything she wants,” Rory said.
“I will,” Thomas said, and bowed his head.
Rory patted him on the shoulder. Meggie kissed the little boy one more time and handed him back to their father.
Her ribs sore from so many hugs, Thomas’s hand firm in the small of her back, Meggie was lifted into the carriage. She leaned out the window, waving, smiling until she was sure her mouth would break.
Glenclose-on Rowan was gone from her view in the next minute because Thomas had turned her around to face him, pulled her to him, and kissed her.
He released her even before she’d had a chance to think about that kiss and what she should do. She said, staring at his mouth, her fingertips on her lower lip, “You didn’t open your mouth. You didn’t give me time to do anything at all. Perhaps I would have liked to open my mouth a bit.”
“I never wish to begin something that I would be unable to finish.”
“I suppose you’re talking about lovemaking.”
He didn’t smile at her, just untied the bow beneath her jaw and pulled off her stylish bonnet. He laid it carefully on the opposite seat. “You have lovely hair, Meggie.”
“Thank you. So do you, Thomas, all dark as ancient sins, nearly as black as your eyes. At least they look black in this dim light. You and I are very different, Thomas, and I like it very much. I will thank God every day for fashioning you just as you are. Now, will you please tell me where we are going on our wedding trip?”
“No, not yet. You will see. All right, a small bit of a hint. I am taking you to one of my homes.”
She was nearly speechless with excitement. “We are sailing to Italy?”
“No. Not this time. You will see. Don’t fret. It will be dark soon. We will spend the night in Exeter.”
“We are traveling west.”
“Yes.”
She poked him very gently in his belly. He obligingly grunted for her. “I am your wife, sir. It isn’t healthy for you to keep secrets from me.”
He said nothing to that, and she leaned back as he pulled up the window against the chill evening air. “Are we going to Cornwall?”
“Yes, but it is not our final destination.”
“I saw you speaking to Uncle Ryder. Do you approve of him now?”
“I believe him an estimable man. I have also determined that it is wrong to listen to gossip, to lap it up as fast as a racing kitten with a bowl of milk.”
“That was well said.” Meggie took one of his hands between hers. “You are my husband now, Thomas. Isn’t that amazing?”
“I wanted you,” he said simply. “And now you are mine.”
“You make that sound like I was a prize that you somehow managed to win.”
“Yes. I would say that a wife is a prize.”
“Bosh. You also make it sound like I’m now some sort of possession. I don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
“You are chattel, though the word doesn’t bring particularly pleasant things to mind. Chattel is owned and so is a wife.”
She laughed, full rich, that laugh of hers, and he felt the tug of it. “That sounds just a bit like something Jeremy—the Jeremy who was the obnoxious superior one—would say. I pray you, Thomas, never treat me like I have a hollow room between my ears.”
He gave her a look tha
t, she thought, was far too serious and said slowly, “I’ve never believed that.”
“Good. I’m sorry that William was unable to come. I promised myself that I would try to be polite to him even though I would have probably smacked him in the head.”
“I asked him not to come. It would have been awkward, particularly with the Winters family there. I did not wish to have today marred.”
“I am glad my father told them the truth.”
“I suppose it had to be done, else Mr. Winters might have shot me during our wedding.”
“Mr. Winters is a very fine shot.”
“Then your father saved my life.”
Meggie laughed. “Will I meet William soon? You know, since your mother and father didn’t live together, how was William conceived? He is five years younger than you?”
“Just four years. He is twenty-one. When he was born his father sent him and his mother away as well.”
“It is a dreadful thing, Thomas. I am so very sorry.”
He shrugged, said nothing.
“Will William be coming to the one of your houses where we’re going?”
“We will see,” Thomas said, folded his arms over his chest, and smiled at her. “You look quite beautiful, Meggie. I remarked upon it when you walked down the aisle toward me, when I was not remarking upon Rory, that is.”
She laughed. “As for Rory, isn’t he a little scamp?”
“Yes, he is. I’m very glad he survived that fever.”
“I cannot imagine what it would have been like if he had not. But enough of that. Rory is well and speaking Latin again. Now, you are the beautiful one, Thomas. I am ordinary compared to you.”
That made him laugh. He lightly ran his fingertip along her jaw. “A man is nothing more than a solid creature, Meggie, whose size allows him both to build and to bash heads together.”
“And to laugh and to eat peeled grapes like the Romans did.”
“At least to laugh. I haven’t seen many grapes where we’re going.”
“That reminds me. I’m very hungry. Mrs. Priddle packed us a basket. Should you like a bit of champagne? Some of our wedding cake? Or scones that she made for my uncle Colin? He’s the Scottish earl, you remember.”
Catherine Coulter the Sherbrooke Series Novels 6-10 (9781101562123) Page 43