by Laura Locke
The Squire’s estate had undergone a transformation. Scores of tables with benches were scattered about and ruffled awnings dotted the landscape. Everywhere you looked there were platters of the greatest delicacies that money could buy, served by manservants dressed in full livery. Most of the county had turned out for the event, dressed in their Sunday finest.
At the appointed time, Eliza walked down the aisle made between potted palms and stood beside Richard beneath an archway decorated with soft pink roses. They exchanged vows and at the completion, Richard kissed her solemnly in front of the entire county. They turned toward the guests, waving, creating a memorable sight that would be described often throughout the years. On Richard’s side of the aisle sat his sister and parents, proud and comfortable in the outdoor setting that had comprised so much of their lives. Just across the aisle from them sat the wealthier families with titles and finery to be admired. Perhaps the most honored guest, in Richard’s estimation, was Sarah. She was given a front row seat and no one questioned whether that had been a gift of Richard or the squire himself. She beamed as queen of the event, and would entertain guests enter in for years to come with descriptions of the beauty that Eliza planned.
Peacocks wandered amongst the guests, squawking loudly and spreading their tail feathers together attention. None could compete with the beauty of the bride, however. She wore her mother’s wedding gown, a handmade creation with row upon row of fine Brussels lace and buttoned down the back with real pearls. Eliza’s dark locks had been piled upon her head and her face shown with the colors of good health. She behaved as a queen herself, generously greeting each and every guest as they approached to offer their congratulations. At her side to stood her tall, handsome husband, Richard. His copper locks had been combed into submission and his topaz eyes shone with pride at having captured the bride of his dreams.
Even the squire held some pride that afternoon. At Sarah’s urging, the villagers had overlooked the earlier incident that had discolored Eliza’s reputation and chose instead to marvel at the generosity of the squire. After all, the people of England were accustomed to having a monarchy. They appreciated the security that such a long-established custom insured, for the nobility were entrusted by God to look after those who were less fortunate. Eliza, and all of her beauty had become their local queen and Richard, their handsome king. Everyone strived to exchange a word or two with the happy couple, for surely such good fortune was subject to rub off upon them.
The happy couple celebrated their wedding night at Sarah’s inn. It was a neutral location and yet close by. Sarah had denied anyone else choosing to stay with the happy couple. She lavished all of her attention in the very finest accommodations she could muster for their pleasure. She also wisely knew when to retreat and leave them to one another’s pleasure.
Richard took his new bride into his arms, stroking her hair that now lay loosely down her back. He cradled her in his arms, murmuring soft words and sentiments that had heretofore been unknown to him. It was as if God had given him a wife and the appropriate vocabulary as a gift.
Eliza lay in her lover’s arms, contentment making her languid and receptive to his every advance. She had no fear of Richard, but trusted him implicitly. She had long feared that her father’s aspirations would partner her with a man far older than herself and perhaps in poor health and even incapable of creating an heir, should she be able to stomach his attentions long enough. To her great joy, she now lay with the man she had fallen in love with at first sight in the mercantile. Little had she suspected that the tall man with the golden eyes, dressed in such sad repair would eventually become her loving husband.
Perhaps the greatest surprise of the evening was when the squire handered Richard a thick envelope. Inside, Richard found the deed to the squire’s own estates made over to Richard and Eliza. Richard’e eyes looked up to the Squire’s smile from his vantage at the wedding table. “But sir?”
“No, no, none of that. The place is far too large for me alone. In fact, I’ve taken up lodgings in the village at the inn,” he said quietly in his eye quickly sought out Sarah’s beaming face.
Richard nodded with understanding and his heart felt glad for Sarah. So many happening happy endings in such a short time.
After their wedding night, Richard and Eliza took up residence in the house in which she had grown up. Eliza wasted no time in calling in decorators in London and they hovered together for weeks, transforming the dated, worn and dark colors of her father’s preferences into a splendid, welcoming atmosphere of new fabrics and colors. Eliza pointed out to Richard that they would host parties regularly and he loved her enough to be okay with that. Richard did, however, retain ownership of the tiny cottage where he had first come to live. It represented something he had earned on his own and was a quiet place where he could retreat and be with the earth, the animals, and his beloved garden. Eliza knew that he needed that and never objected.
One by one, Richard granted each of the tenants ownership of their individual small farms. At the same time, he formed a cooperative through which they all work together to look after one another and help during times of trouble, as well as bounty. Richard became a very admired figure and despite the fact that he was to inherit a title, his greatest pride came in that the citizenry elected him as sheriff of the county. It was a symbolic title as Richard had no desire to take part in law enforcement, but transfer that responsibility to deputies. Instead, he chose to teach people how to be kind and helpful to one another, often settling disputes in unconventional ways.
One such example was when two brothers owned adjoining farms and began to quarrel over where the one property ended and the other commenced. Richard took it upon himself to call the brothers together, asking each of them to mark their perceived boundary line with the brush filled with white wash. The lines ended up being no more than ten paces apart. Richard then filled in that area with white wash and proclaimed it neutral territory and to be planted heavily with fruit trees. “You shall share the bounty of that small piece of land and let it forever be a reminder that cooperation yields a fruit.” The villagers marveled at his talent of negotiation and often looked to him to settle disputes. In later years, when the title finally passed to Richard, he found himself invited to court as an advisor to the throne.
Chapter 19
Eliza’s pain had come in the night. She shook Richard’s shoulder, whispering that the babe was about to be born. Richard had leapt from the bed and gone to fetch Dr. Burroughs, this time as her physician and not her suitor. Dr. Burroughs barred Richard from the master bedroom, telling him to summon the local midwife and her helper. He explained nothing further and Richard began the long process of worry that carried him through the next long hours.
Richard returned with the midwife and two of her helpers. The three women quickly ascended the staircase to the master bedroom and found the doctor sitting beside Eliza, holding her hand and speaking comforting words. He quickly apprised the midwife of the situation and she and her helper set about preparing the bedroom as a birthing suite.
The night stretched into the next day and into that night as well. Richard could hear Eliza’s cries from above as he paced the study below but the doctor refused to allow an entrance. “Good God, man,” he challenged Dr. Burroughs. “Eliza is my wife, and she is in pain. It is my duty to be at her side.”
“Normally that would be true,” the doctor replied. “But this is not for you, it is woman’s work. She was born to do this and although her labor is difficult, I feel sure that she is in no danger. Have patience, Richard.”
Richard, feeling useless and partially angry, ceded to the doctors wishes and return downstairs. He downed a snifter of brandy and threw open the front door, striding out into the late summer heat as he looked upward and extended his arms, pleading to God to help his wife through her pain. There came the sound of hooves and just as he appeared at so many crucial moments in Richard’s life, Rufus and his men rode down the lane towar
d him. Without a word, they slid from their horses, tying them to the hitching post. Rufus put his arm around Richard shoulders. “Come, man, this is a time for strength.”
“How did you know something was amiss?” Richard questioned him.
“I do not try to explain it — I simply know that it is. Perhaps in another life you and I were kinfolk,” Rufus observed. “I’ve heard it said you keep a fine stock in your library. Why don’t we adjourn there now and try it out?”
There was nothing else to be done so Richard nodded and invited all the men into his study where he uncapped the decanter of brandy and handed snifters around the room. Rufus and his men attempted to keep Richard’s attention off his laboring wife, telling stories of close encounters and thieving accomplishments. Rufus laughed loudly and often, and often to cover the sound of Eliza’s cries that seemed to upset Richard so badly.
Nightfall was upon them when the staff knocked gently at the door, bearing platters of cold meats and breads with cheese for the guests and Richard. Richard had no appetite but Rufus overcame his rejection. “You must eat, to keep up your strength,” he told Richard. “The lass will need your strength when she is through.”
Richard saw the wisdom of his words and knew that the drink had soured his stomach. Perhaps food would help, thereby alleviating some small portion of his misery. He tried again to gain entrance to the master bedroom, but the doctor was firm, telling him that Eliza’s time was upon her. The next hour would be crucial, the doctor advised.
Rufus and his men continued to drink but not one of them evidenced drunkenness. “You’re welcome to spend the night,” Richard invited them. “There are ample bedrooms for all of you but I ask that you wait until my wife is restored. I wish to keep that floor quiet as a refuge for her pain,” he remarked thoughtfully. Rufus waved him off, understanding completely Richard’s concerns.
The great grandfather clock that stood in the hall chimed midnight when at last, Dr. Burroughs called Richard’s name. Richard hurried into the entryway, looking up to see the doctor, holding a candle with the shirtsleeves rolled up to his forearms and his hair tousled with exhaustion. Richard, not knowing what to expect, bounded up the staircase, three steps at a time.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed past the doctor and into the master bedroom. There on the bed lay Eliza, her face pale from the trials of pain and exhaustion. Her eyes were dull and her smile feeble, but to Richard’s great happiness, she was alive and appeared stable. Eliza closed her eyes, falling asleep with weakness.
The doctor took him by the arm, leaving him to the bassinette which waited at the side of the room. Richard steeled himself, assuming that the child would be grotesquely deformed, judging by the severity of Eliza’s labor. With hesitance, he finally found the courage to peer over the side.
To his immense surprise and joy, there lay not only one healthy baby, but three. Each had a full head of coppery hair and their mouths were working into a cry, seeking the comfort of their mother’s breast as they lay exhausted from their journey into the world. “Triplets!” Richard exclaimed in exultation.
Dr. Burroughs nodded. “It runs from father to son, you know.” He pointed out that all three were healthy; two boys and one girl.
“Does Eliza know?” Richard inquired.
“Indeed, she knows quite well. Perhaps better than any of us. Your wife is a strong woman, despite her frail and delicate appearance. All three of the babies appear to be in good health and may I be the first to congratulate you?” Dr. Burroughs held out his hand but Richard pushed it aside and embraced the doctor with open arms.
“Thank you. I owe my life and that of my wife and children to you as well. You are a fine man and I hope you will find a wife equal to your talents and intelligence.”
The doctor nodded, saying, “I’ve been working on that, Richard. Perhaps when all has settled here, we might share a mug at the pub and discuss that.”
“Of course,” said Richard and turned back to Eliza, lying on the bed. He kissed her softly on the cheek and tucked the covers up about her chin. “Sleep now, my love. Get all the rest you can for even though you shall have nannies, I can tell you from experience that three babies will prove to be a tremendous amount of work. Get your rest. I am off to tell your father.”
Richard left the master bedroom, walking down the hall toward the room where the squire was napping, having been alerted to Eliza’s laying in. He had kept to his room, not wanting to interrupt the excitement. Richard tapped at his door and the squire called him in.
“Sir, you are grandfather.”
The squire set up abruptly in his bed. “Truly? And Eliza, is she well?”
Richard closed the door behind himself. “She is not only well, she is the mother of triplets.” He waited for the squire’s reaction.
“Triplets? Do not have fun with me, Richard.”
“No, sir, I am not. As you know, I am one of three myself and the doctor tells me it is not uncommon to inherit that. I wanted to tell you personally and to thank you again for having given me the greatest gift a man can imagine.”
The squire nodded. “You deserved her, Richard. My daughter will make you a good wife and mother for the children. Come, let us go below and have a drink in celebration.”
Richard grinned. “I welcome that, squire. I also welcome you to meet a few of my friends. I believe you will recognize them,” he said in a lighthearted voice, his arm about the squire’s shoulders as they descended the staircase to the study.
Love Lost at Sea
Chapter 1
Northumberland, England
“Melody, my dear, I can honestly say the quality of your workmanship has far exceeded mine,” Sylvia Wellchester told her daughter. “I’ve begun to notice that some of our customers even ask for you by name.”
“Mother, you flatter me, but you will always be the better seamstress. After all, I still have much to learn from you.”
Sylvia shook her head. “This is no time to be modest, Melody. When one achieves a point where their livelihood becomes a craft, it is a time of pride and you have earned it. Why, just the other day, Mrs. Townsend came in while you were on a delivery and refused to allow me to take care of her. She asked when you would return and would settle for no one other than you.”
“Mother, I am sure you are exaggerating.”
“No, my dear, I am not. This is hardly something to bicker over, however. This brings up a far more serious topic. I talked this over with your father just a few days ago. We believe that your skills exceed the needs of the Tymington folk. It would be unseemly for a young, unmarried lady, to strike out on her own, but we must look for a way to accommodate your future.”
Melody frowned. She was the last to be married of the triplets; having one brother and one sister born on the same day, both of whom had already married and begun their families. She knew that this was on her mother’s mind, for after a certain age, a young woman was no longer considered marriageable. Melody considered her plight as she looked into the mirror in their workroom. She knew she was not unattractive, but Tymington had grown smaller as a village and there were fewer young man to court her. The King routinely recruited from the village to bolster his troops and as many of the young men of Tymington had little to look forward to in the way of fortunes, being in the King’s service was an attractive option.
Johanna had been the first of the three to marry and she now lived with her husband in America. Richard, after having struck out on his own as a farrier, had married the daughter of a wealthy squire and earned the respect of his community. His farrier business and his reputation flourished and he was a great source of pride to their father. Ira Wellchester and his wife had raised their children well. Melody had no doubt of this, but she admitted to herself that she did long for the gaiety and romance of places and people further afield.
Like her name, Melody’s personality was much like a song. She had sweet laughter and exercised it regularly. Her copper curls and topaz eyes reflect
ed her warm personality and people were naturally drawn to her. Over the previous two years, there had been two young men who had begun to court her, but each was called away to the King’s service, leaving Melody alone and without prospects. She contented herself by working with her mother in Sylvia’s seamstress business.
“What would you have me do, Mother?”
“That is precisely what your father and I have discussed. Your options. I have a suggestion I would like you to consider.”
“And what might that be?” Melody was a bit suspicious, as she surely wanted control of her own future but could see no obvious solutions.”
“I have a cousin, Lily Wise. Actually, she is a second cousin to me, and although I’ve not seen her since we were children, we did get along well and were close at one time.”
“Why have I never heard you speak of her?”
Sylvia blushed and chose her words carefully. “How shall I say this? Lily was never wed. When her parents grew too elderly to live alone, she moved into their home in one of London’s finest areas and took care of them. To earn her living, she started a small bakery in their ample kitchens. Her parents were not without means and their home was divided into two flats. Lily stayed in the upper quarters where she could easily care for her parents and converted their front parlor into a quaint showroom for the pastries and cakes she baked. She has done quite well for herself, especially since both her parents have passed and she now has ample time on her hands. I am told she has earned a very favorable reputation, and has even been known to supply her creations to the palace.”
“I take it that Lily has never married?” Melody asked suspiciously. “Mother, are you intent upon sending me to live with your cousin Lily?”
Sylvia blushed again, bent low to her hand work and did not answer immediately.