Lord Elland did not attend the ceremony, but he called at the cottage to wish the couple well before they departed for their honeymoon. He was but newly returned from London, where he had been told in no uncertain terms that he would remain Lord Elland until his death, for His Majesty had made him so and therefore it was so.
“I asked if there were any circumstance by which that decision might be changed or revoked, and do you know what the Master of the Rolls told me?” Lord Elland said, his usually calm face alight with amusement.
“I can’t guess,” Caroline said.
“He said, ‘Only by treason, Elland. Only by treason.’ And since I have no plans at present to attempt to overthrow the King’s rule, I believe I am safe.”
“And Mr Alsager will inherit in his turn?” she said.
“Yes, Edward will inherit. All he need do is prove that he is my legal heir, and since that is beyond all question, there will be not the least difficulty. So all is well that ends well. Although…” He paused, a frown crossing his face. “I feel as if my title is undeserved, as if it is not truly mine. I am not quite sure now who I am, or where I fit in to the world.”
“Now you understand how I feel,” Caroline said. “At the start of this year, I was a lacemaker struggling to survive. Then I found myself in possession of a house and a good income, and now I’m the wife of a wealthy landowner. It’s a big change.”
“You will adapt to it. Look at my mother — she was a lady’s maid, yet I never once suspected she was not the cultured daughter of a diplomat that she claimed to be.”
“It is a pity she wasn’t aware that you could keep the title,” Caroline said sadly. “It would have saved her a great deal of worry.”
“True, but if she had done as she ought and told me the truth years ago, all that worry could have been avoided. She has been punished by her own deceit, whereas you, Mrs Leatham, have displayed the utmost integrity. But you were testing me when you brought those documents to me, were you not? You wanted to see how I would react.”
“In a way. We agonised over it for hours, whether to send them to London ourselves, or to leave it to you to do the honourable thing. Which you did.”
“But I could have tossed them on the fire. For a second, I was tempted, I confess, but I could never do it. It would have been despicable, to destroy the evidence of my own ignoble birth.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you had,” she said. “You see, the documents were not the evidence. The real evidence was in the original registers in Italy. If you had destroyed those papers, we should have written to the Master of the Rolls to suggest where he might look, although it seems he wouldn’t have cared anyway. But you passed the test.”
“So I did,” he said, smiling.
“And I, too, have a test to pass. My lord, all that money that your mother gave to Mr Wishaw, and which we assumed was ours — it grieves me to say this, for it is a hard thing to surrender so much money, but it is not ours to keep. It should be returned to her ladyship.”
His smile softened. “It is a prodigious sum, yet it was hers to give and she gave it freely. I do not see why you should return it. Keep it, with my goodwill, for the Lord knows you will put it to better use than she did. Ah, I see your husband is waiting to reclaim you. It is time for you to leave, I think.”
“Yes. We’re only going to the coast, a place called Lyme, but I’ve never seen the sea and Charles is determined that I shall.”
“After ten days, you will be sick of it, I guarantee it,” Charles said cheerfully, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You will never want to see the sea again. But tomorrow, you will be delighted by it, my dear, so go and put your bonnet on, for the carriage is on its way round.”
The bonnet was put on, and the stylish matching pelisse, the carriage arrived, and Mrs Leatham, Lin and Poppy wept all over Caroline again.
“My dear, dear daughter!” Mrs Leatham cried, hugging Caroline very tight. “So very happy! So delighted! Always hoped you would make a match of it. Could not be more pleased for you both.”
“Are you, Mama?” Charles said, smiling fondly at her. “I seem to recall a time when your enthusiasm for the match wavered just a little.”
“Nonsense!” she said robustly. “That was just Mildred’s influence. One never quite likes to argue with her, does one? No, I did everything in my power to push the two of you together, and was I not right? Is not Caroline the perfect wife for you?”
“You were absolutely right, dearest Mama,” he said, kissing her cheek. “Thank you!”
With difficulty, the two extricated themselves from the crowd of well-wishers. Caroline was handed into the post-chaise, Charles climbed in after her and they bowled away down the drive.
“Well, that went off tolerably well,” he said, untying the ribbons of her bonnet and tossing it ruthlessly aside. “There! Now I can put my arm around you and you can rest your head on my shoulder. See how comfortable that is, sweetling. We shall stay at Shaftesbury tonight, which is some distance from here, so sleep if you can.”
“How can I possibly sleep when we are alone in a carriage, and not even a maid or a valet with us?” she said, snuggling into his arm with a sigh of contentment. “How ramshackle we are.”
“They will join us later, but for a few days I want you all to myself. I am sure we shall manage perfectly well, at least until we run out of clean handkerchiefs.”
“You will have to help me fasten my stays,” she said. Then, raising innocent eyes to his, she added, “And unfasten them. But I daresay you will not mind that.”
“I shall try my best not to mind that,” he said gravely, but his eyes gleamed at her. “Are you happy, Mrs Leatham?”
“Oh yes! But I am not at all sure why you chose Lyme for our honeymoon. There are any number of seaside resorts you might have chosen, some of them much more fashionable. Brighton, for instance.”
He pulled a face, which made her laugh. “Not Brighton,” he said. “Will and Mildred are taking their honeymoon there.”
“Are they? I should have thought one of the great cathedral cities would be more to their taste,” she said, in genuine surprise.
“So should I, and perhaps Mildred would have chosen something along those lines, but Will is not quite so stuffy as she is. Now that he has her fifteen thousand pounds, he is minded to dabble in the fringes of the fashionable world.”
“I hope she will not dislike it excessively,” Caroline said.
“She has always been too pious by half,” Charles said. “My cousin will teach her to enjoy life a little, and she will keep him from straying too far from his calling. They are well matched. As are we, sweetling.”
“We are, aren’t we, and yet I disliked you extremely in the beginning.”
“I can hardly blame you for that, or for refusing my unmannerly offer. But, odd as it may seem, I think it worked for the best. We decided almost at once that we should not suit, and so we came to know and appreciate each other without any thought of marriage at all. We became friends, and I am convinced now that that is the only secure foundation for matrimony. Others may fall in love with a person on sight and decide to wed without much thought, but for us it was far, far better to become fast friends before thinking of love.”
“Perhaps that is true,” she said thoughtfully, “but for me there is no difference. My friends are those whom I love, and so, once you were my friend, love was unavoidable. Especially once you kissed me,” she added punctiliously.
“At the ball?” he said, in tones of incredulity. “That made a difference? For it was the lightest of kisses, barely even worthy of the name.”
“Perhaps not, but it started me thinking what it might be like to be close to a man. I’d never even considered the possibility before, you see, but that kiss set me wondering… what it would be like… to be married, and particularly, to be married to you.”
“Well, if I had known that, I would have kissed you a lot sooner,” he said.
She laugh
ed, and said, “I have no idea why we are talking about kissing when we could be doing it. Can you think of a reason, husband?”
“Not a single one, wife.”
Whereupon a profound silence fell within the chaise, which lasted all the way to the first changing post.
THE END
The next book in the series is The Apothecary. You can read a sneak preview of chapter 1 after the acknowledgements. For more information or to buy, go to my website.
Thanks for reading!
If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a short review on Amazon. You can find out the latest news and sign up for the mailing list at my website. In case you were wondering, the book Charles used to help him become a gentleman is quite real. ‘Principles of Politeness and of Knowing the World’ by Reverend Dr John Trusler is still available, thanks to the miracle of print-on-demand.
Family trees: Hi-res version available here.
A note on historical accuracy: I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!
Isn’t that what’s-his-name? Regular readers of my books will know that occasionally characters from previous books pop up again. There are a few in this book. Lord Randolph Litherholm, the new Duke of Falconbury, made a brief appearance in The Clerk, the prequel to this series; his story will be told in book 6, The Duke. Lawyer Mr Willerton-Forbes and his flamboyant sidekick Captain Edgerton have been helping my characters solve murders and other puzzles ever since Lord Augustus. Keep an eye out for Mr and Mrs Elkington, unobtrusive guests at a dinner party here; you’ll be seeing more of them in the next book, The Apothecary.
About the Silver Linings Mysteries series: John Milton coined the phrase 'silver lining' in Comus: A Mask Presented at Ludlow Castle, 1634
Was I deceived, or did a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night?
I did not err; there does a sable cloud
Turn forth her silver lining on the night,
And casts a gleam over this tufted grove.
Ever since then, the term ‘silver lining’ has become synonymous with the unexpected benefits arising from disaster. The sinking of the Brig Minerva results in many deaths, but for others, the future is suddenly brighter. But it’s not always easy to leave the past behind…
Book 0: The Clerk: the sinking of the Minerva offers a young man a new life (a novella, free to mailing list subscribers).
Book 1: The Widow: the wife of the Minerva’s captain is free from his cruelty, but can she learn to trust again?
Book 2: The Lacemaker: three sisters inherit a country cottage, but the locals are surprisingly interested in them.
Book 3: The Apothecary: a long-forgotten suitor returns, now a rich man, but is he all he seems?
Book 4: The Painter: two children are left to the care of a reclusive man.
Book 5: The Orphan: a wilful heiress is determined to choose a notorious rake as her guardian.
Book 6: The Duke: the heir to the dukedom is reluctant to step into his dead brother’s shoes and accept his arranged marriage.
Any questions about the series? Email me - I’d love to hear from you!
About the author
I write traditional Regency romances under the pen name Mary Kingswood, and epic fantasy as Pauline M Ross. I live in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland with my husband. I like chocolate, whisky, my Kindle, massed pipe bands, long leisurely lunches, chocolate, going places in my campervan, eating pizza in Italy, summer nights that never get dark, wood fires in winter, chocolate, the view from the study window looking out over the Moray Firth and the Black Isle to the mountains beyond. And chocolate. I dislike driving on motorways, cooking, shopping, hospitals.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go to:
All those fine people in Albany, Australia who restored the Brig Amity, and gave me the germ of an idea.
Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics for the cover design.
My beta readers: Mary Burnett, Barbara Daniels Dena, Amy DeWitt, Quilting Danielle, Megan Jacobson, Melanie Savage
Last, but definitely not least, my first reader: Amy Ross.
Sneak preview of The Apothecary Chapter 1: A Visitor (May)
Annie was on her hands and knees in the cellar, counting bottles, when her life changed. Such a mundane chore, to precede so momentous an event. How could she have guessed?
She loved the feel of the bottles in her hand, heavy and solid. So many bottles… green ones, brown ones, blue ones, clear ones. Tall and thin, or short and squat, or lozenge shaped. Each one would hold a different type of medicine — tonics and sleeping draughts and healing receipts of one sort or another. A thousand different ways to heal, and already she knew several hundreds of them. Her uncle never tired of explaining his methods to her, and she never tired of listening. Ever since she and her mother had come to live with him, she had been her uncle’s avid apprentice. His little apothecary, he liked to call her, in his jesting way.
Three boxes had already been counted, sorted and the bottles replaced, and she was just beginning on the fourth, when the door at the top of the cellar stairs creaked.
“Are you down there, miss?” came Betty’s voice. Annie smiled. Betty hated the cellar, and would never venture down into the darkness unless compelled.
She sat back on her heels. “I am here, Betty. Am I wanted in the kitchen?”
“Mistress said to tell you you’re to go upstairs and put on your blue muslin right away. Oh, and wash your hands and tidy your hair.”
“Oh. Visitors?”
“Don’t know, miss, but they’s all a-twitter, mistress and your ma.”
“Very well. Tell them I shall be there in a little while. I only have one more box to see to.”
“No, miss! Right away!”
“An important visitor, then.” That was interesting. The banker, perhaps? Or the landlord, although he usually only came at Lady Day.
Annie brushed herself down, raising a cloud of dust. No matter how often she swept out the cellar, there was always a great volume of dust. With a last, regretful look at the last box of bottles, she picked up her lantern and climbed the stairs to the kitchen passage.
Her aunt was waiting for her. “Well, now,” she said, pinching Annie’s cheek. “Yes, you need a little bit of colour. You’ve always been so pale. But never mind that now! Hurry upstairs and change, my dear, as quick as you can. He’ll be back in an hour… less than an hour, now, and we must be ready. Gracious, I must send Wally round to Mrs Quaife for some cake or biscuits, for we have nothing… nothing suitable. What are you standing here for? Run, run!”
Annie flew up the stairs. The blue muslin was already laid out on the bed. Betty was rummaging in drawers, pulling out ribbons and gloves and handkerchiefs in a haberdashery whirlwind. Her mother had her jewellery box open, her thin fingers rifling through the contents, muttering, “No, no… not that, no… possible… no…”
“Whatever is going on?” Annie said, turning round to allow Betty to unfasten the back of her apron and gown. “Is it the landlord?”
Her mother looked up with amusement all over her face. “The landlord? Whatever gave you that idea? It is Mr Huntly.”
“Mr Huntly?” Annie said blankly.
“Oh, Annie! You must remember him. He was so sweet on you but not a penny piece to his name. He could not afford a wife, and so your papa told him. He went away after that, but he was so sad, poor fellow.”
“That was years ago! Seven… no, eight years ago, Mama. How should I remember him after all this time?”
But she did remember him. Not his face, perhaps, for his appearance was nondescript, but the way they had met. She had
been walking up the High Street with Lavinia when he had emerged from the Angel, long legs striding, and almost bumped into them. He had stopped dead, gazing at her fixedly, then he had swept off his hat and bowed almost to the ground. It was so comical that she had wanted to laugh, and Lavinia had laughed. They had passed by without acknowledging him, naturally, but he had followed them all the way back to the vicarage. He had been in the congregation the next Sunday, but for several weeks he could do no more, for he had no acquaintance in common to introduce him to the society they moved in. When he had finally got his introduction, he had pursued her relentlessly for weeks… no, months, until he had plucked up the courage to speak to Papa. Poor man! He had gone away so dejected, Papa had said.
“But whatever does he want? Has he moved back to Guildford?”
“I think not,” he mother said, with an gleeful grin. “Look at his card.”
She pulled it from the pocket of her apron, and thrust it at Annie. ‘Rupert Huntly, Esq. Willow Place, nr Salisbury, Wilts.’ she read.
“Willow Place. That was his brother’s estate.”
“It is his home now, and he is an esquire, do you see? A gentleman. What a fine thing for you, Annie!”
“Oh, Heavens, Mama, may a man not call on old friends without exciting speculation? He may simply live with his brother. He may even be married. Ouch! Too tight, Betty.”
“We will find it all out soon enough, but he is not coming here to see me, you may be sure of that, even though he asked for Mrs Dresden and Miss Dresden. He has already found out that you are still unmarried, you see. I expect he made enquiries about you, and now that he knows you are single, he comes to call upon you. There now, that gown shows off your figure to full advantage. This necklace, I think, Annie, and the other fichu. Yes, the lace one, Betty, and then you must do what you can with her hair, while I go and change, too. Goodness, to be receiving morning callers again — why, it is just like the old days when your poor, dear papa was alive, Annie. I do so miss it.”
The Lacemaker (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 2) Page 31