Satyr’s Son: A Georgian Historical Romance (Roxton Family Saga Book 5)

by Brant, Lucinda

  “Then I hope you won’t mind if I persist, and ask you my question in your preferred language,” she replied in French, and continued smoothly, as if she had not seen his surprise or that he was peering at her keenly. “The reason I asked if you are attending Miss Cavendish’s wedding, is because I am. I beg your pardon. My name is Miss Crisp. I was at school with Miss Cavendish—Teddy—and I have not seen her in two years. But I have a most excellent memory for names and faces. And I do recall Teddy telling me about an uncle who lived in France. She had never met him, but that her mother told her that this uncle—who is her mother’s brother—has the same color hair as Teddy and her mother. She called the color ‘Fitzstuart Fire’. She also told me that there is a family ring called the ‘Fire and Ice’, the fire represented by a ruby, and ice represented by a diamond. But please excuse me, I am rattling on at you. And if you are not Teddy’s French uncle, then you must think me quite addle-brained, or at the very least a most forward female to speak to you so freely, and you may quite rightly snub me.”

  The stranger continued to peer at Lisa for several seconds, and then, after another glance about at the others, who were either dozing again or looking out at the view, replied in French, saying with the hint of a smile,

  “You have a remarkable memory, Miss Crisp. As remarkable as your French language skills. It is gratifying to know Teddy attended a school that provided such excellent tuition in the language.”

  “It did. But that does not mean all the girls took advantage of what was on offer, or indeed had a natural aptitude for language. I do. I don’t say this with arrogance, but as fact, M’sieur. But if you do indeed know anything of Teddy, you know her interests lie anywhere but in a classroom.”

  The stranger gave an involuntary bark of laughter. But he soon had his features under control, and all he would say was, “If you will excuse me, Miss Crisp, I shall keep my own counsel until Alston. I have had a long and arduous journey from Cheltenham, where I spent time visiting with my ailing mother, whom I have not seen in many years. But if you care to continue our conversation on the way to our destination, I will oblige you.”

  Lisa readily complied, and let the stranger sleep, and he did, in his corner, soundlessly, until they reached Alston, which was indeed a picturesque village as attested by the Fullers.

  Lisa and Becky and their trunks, and the stranger with his satchel, were set down in front of the Swan Inn on the High Street. The girls said their farewells to the Fullers, and to Sam, who gave Becky an impromptu hug and made her promise to visit him in Southampton. The Fullers then gave Lisa their trade card, and Lisa thanked them, and Becky said she would write. Leave-taking was then conducted in a rush, which suited Lisa because she would not have known how to respond to the Fullers had they asked her why she had not made her destination known to them when they had spoken about the Duke of Roxton’s estate.

  For no sooner had Lisa and Becky taken their leave of the Fullers than they were approached by a gentleman in the somber attire of an upper servant, followed by two footmen in livery. The Fullers knew instantly to whom the livery belonged, and they stared at Lisa and Becky anew to see them greeted by servants of the Duke of Roxton. A carriage awaited the girls in the yard of the Swan Inn, ready to take them to Treat.

  Lisa invited the stranger to join them, and he gladly accepted, though he did not offer her or the upper servant his name upon entering the carriage. And again he sat in his corner as the servant, who introduced himself as assistant to His Grace of Roxton’s secretary without giving his name, spoke to Lisa at length about her stay on the estate, and the upcoming nuptials of Miss Cavendish to Sir John Cavendish. She must have glanced one too many times about the interior of the carriage, which was a compact vehicle but beautifully appointed throughout, with deep blue velvet cushions, satin buttons in the upholstery, and silk blinds with a delicate fringe, for the assistant secretary felt compelled to comment.

  “This is Her Grace’s estate carriage, used only to make short trips, to the village on fete days, special days at the local Alston school, of which Her Grace is patroness, and to visit such persons in the local environs as Her Grace deems worthy of her time.”

  “It is a beautifully appointed vehicle,” Lisa replied with a smile, gloved hands in her lap. “And gives a most superior ride.”

  “This is a superior road,” the stranger in the corner quipped, and in perfect English, without opening his eyes.

  No one commented, though Lisa kept her smile from widening with difficulty. The assistant secretary then handed Lisa a sealed packet which he said she did not need to open now, but it would be beneficial for her to read the entire contents and familiarize herself with the protocol sheet and the two maps, as soon as practicable upon her arrival at the Gatehouse Lodge, where she would be residing for the duration of her stay.

  Lisa stared at the fat packet and at the wax seal, and then across at the assistant.

  “Protocol sheet? Maps?” she enquired, requiring more information to understand what he was talking about. “Excuse me. It has been a long day, and I am a little tired.”

  The assistant coughed into his gloved hand and explained.

  “A protocol sheet is a most necessary and instructive instrument if one is unfamiliar with the—um—intricacies of the customs, and the order of precedence, and the minutiae of the daily interactions of persons of position of a large estate, particularly the estate of a duke whose mother is a double duchess, and whose step-father is also a duke in his own right. As I’m certain you, Miss Crisp, can appreciate, when the niece of a duke weds, the guest list is one long list of titled relatives and friends. All will be known to one another, and so it is helpful for those who have had little or no—interaction—with such exalted persons to know the difference say, when addressing an earl, and when addressing a viscount—”

  “It would, but the examples you give are not good ones,” stated the stranger, opening his eyes. “Both are addressed as ‘my lord’, whether they are the Earl of Big Breeches, or Viscount Hot Head. So how would she know? How would anyone unless they were related to the said Lord Big Breeches or Lord Hot Head?”

  Lisa clapped a hand to her mouth to stop herself from laughing out loud. But she could not stop the twinkle in her eyes. The stranger, who was sitting across from her, smiled and winked before dropping his smile and saying to the affronted assistant secretary, “Please don’t let me interfere in your instruction. Though I will add for Miss Crisp’s benefit, so that she may feel more comfortable knowing that as this is a family wedding, and the Duke of Roxton is a family man first and a nobleman second, he will not be standing on ceremony with any of his guests, the Earl of Big Breeches and Viscount Hot Head not withstanding. If I know anything of the man, he values good manners and honesty above precedence and posturing.”

  “And you know His Grace well, do you, sir?” the assistant secretary asked stiffly, not expecting an answer.

  “I should. I am his first cousin once removed.”

  The assistant secretary goggled at him, and then realizing his bad manners quickly looked away and down at his hands. There was a long silence, in which the stranger turned to stare out the window; then the assistant said diffidently to Lisa, “There is also a day-to-day itinerary included in the packet, with certain events organized in the lead-up to the wedding ceremony and wedding breakfast and the ball. Guests are not obliged to take part in any of these, but are most welcome to join in where that is possible, or just to be a spectator at such events as the gentleman’s cricket match. You will find one or two events that have been marked to your particular attention, and these you are to attend, as a guest of the bride.

  “Also included are two maps contained within the packet which I hope you will find most useful. One is of the estate’s immediate landscape environs, with various landmarks, follies, and such of interest inked in, which you may visit if you have the time during your stay. The second is a map of the big house—that is what the house occupied by His Gr
ace and his family is referred to by family, to distinguish it from—

  “—the little house…?” suggested the stranger in a voice which told Lisa and the harassed assistant secretary he was being facetious.

  “—Crecy Hall, the home of His Grace’s mother, the Duchess of Kinross, and her husband, the Duke of Kinross,” the assistant secretary continued as if the stranger had not spoken. “The map included shows the rooms in the big house which are open to guests, so that if you find yourself lost, or in difficulty navigating your way about, then the map will come in most useful.”

  “What?” asked the stranger. “What happened to the army of footmen, or has Roxton resorted to employing only mute fellows at such posts?”

  “Not at all, sir. It was thought that perhaps some guests might feel less intimidated if they were to have a map to find their own way about, rather than ask one of the footmen, who is not to leave his post, to show them the way.”

  “Oh yes, having a map is an excellent notion. Thank you,” Lisa said, feeling she should say something in defense of the hours that must have gone into preparing and drawing up such maps for each of the guests who were unfamiliar with the estate. “And you are quite right. Approaching a footman in all his finery would be an unsettling experience. And I dare say,” she added with a cheeky smile and glance across at the stranger, “that if they were not regular guests of His Grace, then Lord Big Breeches and his friend Lord Hot Head would benefit from such a map, too.”

  The stranger gave a huff of laughter.

  “They could then swan about the rooms as if they were indeed familiar with the place?!” He leaned in and confided to Lisa. “Thing is, even family members get lost in such a monstrous place from time to time, so there’s no shame in you having your map front and center.” He looked across at the assistant secretary. “Is there anything else you need to tell Miss Crisp?”

  “No, sir. Everything else is detailed in the packet.”

  “Good. How’s your French?”

  “I beg your pardon, sir. My French?”

  “Do you speak it?”

  “A little.”

  “But not well?”

  “Not well, sir.”

  “Then you must excuse Miss Crisp and me for the next little while,” he said and turned and spoke to Lisa exclusively in French. “I beg your pardon for not being more forthcoming in the stagecoach. I do not know how much Teddy knows, or what she has told you about her French uncle, but perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what you have been told, so that I do not repeat myself. And I would appreciate your candor, Miss Crisp.”

  “Very well, sir. Teddy and I had no secrets at school. She only knows what her mother chose to tell her about you. Hence, I knew about your similar coloring, and that you live in France.” Lisa met his steady gaze. “One thing her mother was most adamant about was that you were not a-a—traitor to your conscience, whatever your-your—treasonous actions toward His Majesty during the war in the American Colonies. And that you were pardoned in your absence after the signing of the Treaty of Paris because, as Teddy put it, you are related to practically everyone who is in government.”

  “Thank you. The latter is not strictly true. I was pardoned for my actions in aiding the American cause, but I am related by blood to only half of those in government, and most of those I would not own to knowing.”

  Lisa frowned in thought.

  “You need not answer this if you do not wish to, sir, but as you have been pardoned, why is it that you seem to be in hiding, or, at the very least, moving about the country by stealth?”

  “How perceptive of you, Miss Crisp. Old habits. Though that is not strictly true. There are still those within government who wish me harm because, in their eyes, I will forever be a traitor for my support of the colonists. I will never alter the opinions of such men. But I do not seek to do so. In truth, when I departed England for France almost ten years ago, I had no wish or expectation of returning. I was persuaded to do so by my cousin and my father-in-law upon their recent visit to France.”

  “For Teddy’s wedding?”

  “Yes. It seemed the perfect opportunity to see family members before I take mine to live permanently in the new united states of America. To see my mother one last time; she is very poorly. To be reunited with my sister, to make peace with my brother—”

  “—the revolutionary war hero?”

  “Ah. So you do know my family’s history! Yes. And to meet their families. I would tell you my name,” he added on a note of apology, “but I fear that in the telling it would soon be communicated, not by you, but the mere mention will alert other ears within the confines of this space, and in turn alert M’sieur le Duc, my cousin, and I want to be the one to surprise them.”

  “And so you should, sir.” Lisa smiled. “Teddy’s wedding is certainly going to be a memorable occasion for everyone.”

  “Just so, Miss Crisp,” said Teddy’s uncle reverting to English, and then, after a quick look out of the window, surprised the occupants by knocking on the backboard above his head, signal for the driver to pull up the horses. He collected his satchel, set his hat firmly over his head of red hair, and said to Lisa, “Up ahead the carriage will leave the avenue of trees and turn left to take you to the Gatehouse Lodge. If you look out the right window you will have an uninterrupted view across the lake to the big house. It is a breathtaking sight, and it never grows old. I envy you your first view of Treat. No matter what you have read, or been told, nothing can quite prepare you for the sheer scale of the place. It is simply beyond belief, and this from a man who has spent the last nine years living on the doorstep of the Chateau of Versailles. Ah, if Louis could but see how the Duke of Roxton lives!” He tugged the front of his hat. “We shall meet again very soon, Miss Crisp.”

  With that, Teddy’s uncle exited the carriage and disappeared through the line of trees on the other side of the road. The assistant secretary knocked again for the driver to continue. Lisa did not wish to miss her first view of the big house, but her gaze was still out the left window, and she voiced her thought aloud, not expecting an answer,

  “I wonder where he is headed…”

  “There is a right of way just beyond those trees along the top of the ha-ha that runs all the way to the adjoining estate of Crecy Hall,” the assistant secretary informed her. “Home of the Duke and Duchess of Kinross—”

  “Oh! Oh! Miss! Miss! Look! Look,” Betsy burst out and gasped, sliding along the seat and then crossing to sit opposite Lisa so she too had an excellent view out the windows to the right.

  The two girls pressed their noses to the glass, mesmerized. It was just as Teddy’s uncle had said, and yet what he had said seemed inadequate to the sight presented them. As the carriage veered left, leaving the avenue of trees which continued on towards the lake, they trundled along a graveled drive which gave a clear view across rolling acres of lawn down to the wide blue waters. On the other side of the lake, the rolling lawns continued sloping upwards to a hill, where sat perched a palace. For that was what it was. A grand central Palladian building, with enormous fat columns rising up three floors from a grand staircase, that was almost the width of the building, and to support an impressive pediment carved with statues, sat proudly front and center of this colossal collection of buildings that extended left and right from this imposing central structure. Also three stories high, there were rows and rows of windows that seemed to go on forever before turning a corner and continuing on, for how far, Lisa could not see. Her line of sight was broken by a second avenue of trees, now with only glimpses of the palace atop its hill seen between the green foliage. And then the carriage crossed a stone bridge and turned in through a set of gates and on up a circular drive that was lined with standards of white roses. It came to a stop in front of a quaint—everything else after glimpsing the palace of Treat could not be called anything else—Elizabethan two-storey cottage with turned chimney pots and gargoyles atop the fanciful battlements.

  Thei
r carriage was not the only one pulled up outside the entrance to the Gatehouse Lodge. Another vehicle, an open buggy pulled by two horses, with a driver up front and two footmen in livery up back, was patiently awaiting its occupants.

  Lisa and Becky were set down with their trunks behind this vehicle, and there they waited, watching their carriage depart, and it was almost at the entrance gates before there was any movement from within the manor. And then a great deal happened very quickly, leaving Lisa and Becky tired and mute but fascinated spectators to a family leave-taking.

  A boy with a mop of red curls dashed out of the house into the sunshine, and climbed up into the waiting buggy and slid along the seat to the end. A second, younger boy, with a head of black curls, was not half-a-dozen steps behind and scrambled to climb aboard. When he had difficulty in doing so, the older boy quickly slid back down the seat and stuck out his hand and hauled the younger boy up beside him. He made exaggerated groaning noises, to impress his brother. Both boys did not sit, but stood waiting, looking back to the house with eyes wide with excitement, as if their party was not complete for what was to be a grand adventure.

  A servant appeared next with two small leather satchels which he put up behind the seat at the feet of the liveried footmen; another followed with a larger satchel, and this, too, went in with the others. Next out of the house strode a tall, well-built gentleman of middling years, dressed in a plain linen frock coat and top boots. He put up a hand to the two boys who jumped up and down with excitement and called out for Papa to hurry! Hur-ry! But their papa did not immediately go to them. He turned to the house and waited to be joined by a small woman with an abundance of bright copper hair, and who had an infant to her hip. He kissed the baby’s rosy cheek and then one chubby hand that was held out to him, before gently kissing the woman’s forehead and then stooping to kiss her mouth. It was a lingering kiss and it brought color into Lisa’s cheeks. She dared not look at Betsy, and she could not look away from a couple that were clearly very much in love.