Amberley Chronicles Boxset II (Amberley Chronicles Box Sets Book 2)

by May Burnett

  “It must be difficult, being the heir, but with few rights as yet,” George said thoughtfully. “I came into my own title so young that it never was an issue, and of course I would have preferred my father to live much longer, had it been up to me. But then he would never have betrothed me behind my back.” That was indisputably true. The previous Earl had been a generous and good-hearted man, his children’s happiness ever in the forefront of his mind. Rook had still been a child when he died, but he remembered him well.

  “Don’t worry about me. We Bretons are not born victims, any of us. Whatever happens, you can be assured that I will come about.”

  “No doubt, but if there is anything I can do, Rook, just let me know.”

  “Thank you.” Rook knew that George meant it, that he should be grateful, even as he felt annoyance at his friend’s concern. “It is already enough you are doing, entertaining the Princess night and day, and translating for us.”

  George smiled and shrugged. “You will owe me for that for years to come, Rook – especially as your French is better than mine, from what I remember.”

  “To return to James’s news,” Rook said, “I daresay Mr. Prentice and his wife will be going up to London, now that we know for sure that the girl went there. How likely is it that society will believe the lie about my secret marriage?”

  “Those who know you well will know that it cannot be true, but everyone else is only too likely to believe it. Will it give pause to the Princess, I wonder? She was very cool about it when Miss Prentice first made her bold claim, in her presence.”

  “Frankly, I suspect she would be relieved if it turned out to be true. She is not any happier at our forced marriage than I am.”

  George threw him an incredulous look. “Have you lost your touch that completely?”

  “I have not been trying to charm her, but neither have I tried to give her a disgust of me, except the very first day. It is rather ironic, when I consider how many girls like Miss Prentice seemed to fall in love with me without any effort on my part, that Princess Gisela is quite immune. Rather humbling, though I’m glad of the fact. One-sided love is surely worse than no love at all.”

  “I suppose it would be.”

  “The Princess is not happy because it is a misalliance from her point of view. That aspect of the matter spoils all the rest. If we do marry, she will never forgive me my inferior rank.”

  “Rather unfair, that, considering that you rank among the highest in our country and most girls would be ecstatic at being elevated to Marchioness and Duchess.”

  “A Princess is different. I would have to wean her off her notions of protocol, and that would be a long drawn-out battle. I’m not sure who would win in the end. It is not an attractive prospect.”

  “No.” George looked upset. “Poor Marianne is at her wit’s end how to cope with the Princess’s expectations. If she feels like that after less than a fortnight, I don’t want to imagine what it would be for you, with no end in sight.”

  “A husband should be master in his household –“

  “Not necessarily,” George contradicted. “I would not say that I am Marianne’s master, or she mine. We have achieved a happy balance, that I consider the ideal in a marriage.”

  “Good for you. But it was only possible because there is trust and strong affection between the two of you, I surmise?”

  George nodded. “It was a love match that has lasted. I was incredibly lucky.”

  “Indeed. The point is, if one partner is resentful of the other’s rank, and considers himself or herself too good for the other, then I don’t see how any happiness can be possible. The most that can be expected is a bloodless truce.”

  “Don’t do it, Rook,” George warned.

  “I can assure you, if I find the smallest crack in this trap, the merest trace of a loophole, I’ll take advantage of it,” Rook assured his friend. “In the meantime, it might be helpful if you suggested to the Princess that a marriage cannot possibly take place without at least part of her family present, and that she owes it to her rank that members of our own royal family should attend – something that needs to be requested several months ahead of the occasion.”

  “You are trying to gain time, I see,” George said. “I suppose I would do the same in your shoes. While the knot is not definitely tied, there is still hope.”

  “Yes,” Rook agreed. It might be a small, forlorn hope, but it was all he had at present.

  Chapter 21

  Lord Amberley received a note from the Duke the next day, announcing his visit together with his Duchess and young Colin for the subsequent week. That he had not written to Rook at the same time so infuriated his son that he returned from a long ride with Charger dusty and tired, the horse wet with sweat. He felt so guilty about this that he personally brushed and watered the animal, despite his own fatigue.

  Rook had not yet finished this humble task (in full view of three scandalized grooms) when a loud barking was heard, and a large brindle-coloured dog jumped out of a modest coach that had just drawn up before the stables.

  Jarl immediately spotted his master and ecstatically jumped up at him, trying to get at his face for a thorough licking. Rook’s height prevented him from completing this greeting, but it took more than five minutes of petting and soothing talk before the animal’s transports subsided, and even then the bushy tail was still swishing excitedly from side to side. Charger, well accustomed to Jarl, bore the interruption of his grooming with relative calm.

  The groom who had brought the dog had approached with a leash, but Rook waved it away. Jarl would mind him without it. The dog’s arrival put him into more cheerful spirits; whatever happened between his father and himself in the coming days, he would keep Jarl close by in future. He could not wait to introduce the animal to the Princess, as a test whether there was any chance of rubbing along in future. Did Anna – the Komtesse – like dogs? He suspected that she did, but she would never admit it in Gisela’s hearing.

  Since Jarl had been shut up for many hours in the coach, Rook took him for a walk to the orchards, telling the coachman and groom to go to the kitchens for refreshment, and overnight accommodation before the return trip. As he gave the two men a generous douceur for their quick arrival, he wondered uneasily if this kind of gesture, second nature to him from many years’ practice, might no longer be affordable in the near future. No, surely it would not come to that… He’d not only feed himself and his dog, and his valet, but continue to live as he always had. Somehow.

  As Rook returned towards the building with the exuberant dog at his heels, he heard childish laughter and stopped for a moment to enjoy a charming picture: Verena, Violet and Roger were being taught to ride on diminutive Shetland ponies by an elderly groom, while their nurses hovered watchfully and called out their admiration and encouragement. Violet had the best seat of the three children. She was a natural athlete – too bad that as a girl, she would not be allowed to excel in that sphere. Verena and Roger were not doing badly, considering their young age, but their equestrian talent was no more than ordinary.

  Jarl barked at the ponies when they approached. Rook quickly hushed him. The children saw him and the dog, and immediately came over to make Jarl’s acquaintance, completely fearless.

  After Jarl had submitted to petting by all three children, Verena said, “Why is your dog allowed here in the gardens, when I have to hide mine from your Princess?”

  “She does not look like a Princess,” Violet added, “she looks like an ordinary woman, and is older than Mama and Aunt Marianne.”

  “Princesses come in all ages,” Rook explained. “Just like other people.”

  “I like Anna,” Roger said. “She played with us the other day.”

  “Anna? She allowed you to use her first name?” Rook was surprised. The Komtesse was so uptight and controlled normally … But it made sense that she had to relax every now and then, and that she would do so with the children, just as he himself liked to do.
r />   “What did you play with her?”

  “Shuttlecock. She’s very good. We wanted to play hide and seek as well but she had to go and attend that Princess.”

  “Are you going to marry the Princess?” Verena asked. “Everyone is wondering about it.”

  “It looks like I might,” Rook said, “but nothing is certain yet.”

  Roger frowned. “Does that mean that grown-ups have to do things they don’t really want to do? Even you?”

  “I’m afraid so,” Rook said, “every grown-up has to do things they would rather not, even the King, you know.”

  “Can’t he simply refuse?”

  “Not easily,” Rook said, “and not regularly. The King has to do certain things or people would say he was a bad king, and try to replace him. A duke has to be a good duke, and a soldier a good soldier, a wife a good wife – none of those jobs are effortless. Most grown-ups believe that they had it easier while they were still children.”

  All three scoffed at this ridiculous notion. “When I’m big,” Roger announced, “I’m going to do only what I want, and nothing else.”

  “Me too,” Violet said. Only Verena looked doubtful.

  “Good luck with that plan,” Rook said. “Maybe you’ll succeed, but the odds are against it.”

  “Why cannot you do what you want?” Verena asked, looking at him out of her blue eyes, too big for that tiny face.

  “If you do what you want all the time, it is likely to hurt other people. For instance, if Roger wants to eat Violet’s sweets, he’ll make her angry.”

  “He wouldn’t dare,” Violet said with a threatening look at her twin brother. “I would take away his sweets the next day, and the day after that.”

  “Exactly.” Rook fully sympathized with such a tit-for-tat policy. “Sometimes the people you could hurt cannot fight back, and you still have to think of them, and not do anything that will hurt them. The older you are, the more people are likely to be hurt by selfish behaviour.”

  “But what if you have to hurt either them, or yourself?” Verena asked. “If you are in a wilderness and there is only enough food for one, you can either let them have it, or go hungry yourself.”

  She really was amazingly precocious for five. Rook nodded. “Very true. In such a case a gentleman would leave the last food to the lady, or if it is two men or women, they ought to share exactly.”

  “And then they both starve,” Violet concluded. The prospect seemed to give her a strange satisfaction.

  “They could go on looking for more food,” Rook suggested. “Even in a wilderness, you might still trap an animal, or find some edible plants. If I had Jarl with me, I would send him out to hunt.”

  “Is he a good hunter?” Roger asked, instantly diverted from the hypothetical discussion. Rook told them about some of Jarl’s exploits, but then left them to conclude the riding lesson and returned to the house, the dog at his heels.

  He came across the Princess and the Komtesse – Anna – as he entered by the French windows. The stiff look on Gisela’s countenance told him instantly that there would be no toleration of Jarl from that quarter.

  Jarl made to approach the Komtesse, to sniff at her skirts, and she in turn made a quickly aborted movement, as though to pet him. Her hand sank down after a moment, and Rook called Jarl to heel.

  “I am sorry if you dislike my dog, Princess, but he has been my faithful companion for years,” Rook said. “I would never be so disloyal as to throw him over, under any circumstances.”

  The Komtesse translated, faithfully for once. Gisela took a deep breath, visibly angry – Rook dared to hope for a moment. Would she tell him to go to hell?

  Before she could speak, however, the Komtesse said quickly, “Your own father, the Prince, is very fond of his dogs, Your Royal Highness.” She threw Gisela a warning look as she spoke.

  There was a minute of pregnant silence. “Please keep the animal out of my sight, Marquess,” Gisela said at last, and turned away, with a sign to the Komtesse to follow.

  He’d been so close … had the Komtesse not recalled to the Princess that her father expected the match to go forward, he might have been well out of the matter already.

  “Thanks, Jarl, you did your best,” he muttered, before taking the dog to the kitchens for a repast, and orders on his future sustenance. His valet took the animal in charge while Rook ordered a bath and prepared to change in time for lunch. He had been so focused on the dog that he hadn’t even noticed his own state – hot and redolent of horse, from his long ride.

  “Sir,” his valet said, “should I keep the dog out of sight? I can walk him early, before the Princess wakes, and she need never see him.”

  “No,” Rook ordered, “I shall keep him with me, except at meals of course. You do not need to hide him, but make sure he cannot get at any cat. Are there any? I have not noticed.”

  “I have not seen any cats either, but I shall make inquiry directly. The grey or the olive coat, milord?”

  “Olive,” Rook decided. His mood was already grey enough.

  “That maid of the Komtesse, Milord, Rosalie, pretends not to know English, but she seems to listen closely to what we are saying in the servant’s hall, for all that.”

  “Oh? Do be careful what you say in her hearing, then.”

  “I fear she has already heard anything there is to know.” Rook’s valet adjusted a lapel with care.

  “The two maids of the Princess really speak only French, and have no interest in learning English,” the valet continued. “They turn up their noses at all of us. I am afraid they are not popular. Will they remain with the Princess after you are married, milord?”

  “I have no idea.” With any luck the question would not arise. “Please treat them with all courtesy and patience in the meantime.”

  “That goes without saying, milord.” The valet sounded stiff. “But it’s a good thing that most of the staff do not speak French, and only the upper servants and myself can actually converse with them.”

  “And what do they have to say for themselves?” It was not Rook’s habit to encourage his servants to gossip, but in the current pickle any information was welcome, no matter from what source.

  “They are homesick for their country, I think,” the valet said. “They don’t like our food, or the way we do things – little details that we never even think about are strange to them, and they hate that. They believe that in view of their mistress’s rank, their opinions should prevail, and say that when she is mistress of your house, they will order things differently.”

  “Are they not aware that I have a stepmother, who will be mistress as long as my father lives?”

  “When that fact was pointed out to them, they said that a Princess outranked a Duchess.”

  “Hmm.” Did this portend a future of domestic strife and perpetual war, with the servants taking sides and him in the middle? Yet another reason to devoutly wish that the match would yet come to nothing.

  “Hand me a neck cloth, will you?” He devoted himself to the task of tying it perfectly.

  The Princess’s maids were but pawns, and would go as the Princess went. The Komtesse and her spying maid were a different challenge altogether.

  Had Anna really been going to pet Jarl?

  Chapter 22

  James remained in London for over a week, till the arrival of the Prentices, whom he installed in his own residence for the duration of their search.

  He had not been idle in the intervening days, diligently directing the search for the missing girl. No less than eight ‘young ladies’ had been presented to him, in two cases most unwillingly, but none of them had been Miss Prentice, and the reward, now augmented to five hundred guineas, still remained unpaid.

  He met Michael Selbington twice more. The barrister-journalist had diligently searched the Holborn neighbourhood from whence Miss Prentice had vanished, but with no more success than James or Bow Street. Fearing the worst, James had instructed his searchers to inspect dead bodie
s from the Thames, insensate accident victims, and similar unfortunates. At least that melancholy search remained equally fruitless.

  James wondered if there was any point in scouring the city’s brothels in search of the girl, but concluded that it would be pointless. There were too many, and apart from his natural repugnance as a happily married man, he and his search were too well-known by now; it would be easy to hide the girl. Besides, the large reward should have motivated anyone keeping the girl against her will to produce her already.

  He decided to call upon the Duke of Ottway, to reassure Rook’s father that the rumour of his heir’s secret marriage was unfounded, but was denied. Twice he came by, and though the knocker was on the door, and he chose his time carefully, each time the starchy butler informed James that his Grace was not at home. Well, he’d see him soon enough at Amberley, and it was not as though James felt the slightest personal desire for the Duke’s company.

  He discovered that the idea of marrying Rook to Princess Gisela had been suggested by a Mr. Cholmondeley at the Foreign Office, and tracked the man down at his Club, - oddly enough, the Charybdis, a new Club founded some months before by James’ friend and business partner Jonathan Durwent. Even though he had been there before as a guest, the imposing doorman would only let him in after Cholmondeley had received his card and agreed to a meeting.

  “You are Amberley’s brother, aren’t you?” the young man greeted him. “Here, have some of the port. I can vouch for its quality.”

  “I don’t mind if I do,” James said, anxious to get the young man to talk freely. “I was in this Club once before, one of my best friends is a founding member.”

  “He’s on to a good thing. It’s the perfect place for a discreet spot of business. I suppose you are here about your friend, Lord Molyneux? Is it true that he learned about his betrothal from the paper?” The red-haired young man – young meaning in his early thirties, in his case, older than James himself – clearly felt no remorse or doubt about the unhappy betrothal he had caused.