Blaze Wyndham (12 page)

“Good morning.”

She whirled to see her husband as he came through the little door that connected their bedchambers. “Good morrow to you, sir, and thank you so very much for my gifts!”

“Which pleases you more?” he queried curiously.

She paused a moment to consider, and then laughing said, “I am not certain. I adore roses, and I think it romantic for a gentleman to gift his lady so. Yet I have never received such a lovely present as this jeweled ribbon. I’m afraid, sir, I am a greedy creature. I like them both!”

“I think greed is not in your nature, Blaze,” he told her. “Beautiful things are meant for beautiful women. I am but making up for lost time. After all, I sent you no betrothal gifts.”

“No gifts!” she exclaimed. “Why, my lord, you have seen to the welfare of my seven sisters. No bride ever received a more wonderful gift! It was more than enough.”

How good she is, he thought, and walking the distance that separated them, he took her in his arms, holding her close. “There is something I would have you do for me, Blaze,” he said.

She liked the feel of his arms about her, she decided. It was safe within his embrace. Unconsciously she rubbed her cheek against the velvet of his quilted robe. “What would you have of me, my lord?” she asked him.

“A simple boon. That you call me by my name, Blaze. Since your arrival you have not once said it. You have called me
sir
and
my lord
, but nothing else.”

“I was not certain, Edmund, that it was allowed,” she answered him. “My mother told me I must wait until you gave me leave before I spoke your name. She said that some men prefer that their wives call them
sir
or
my lord
.”

“I lay awake last night wondering how my name would sound upon your tongue,” he said.

“How extravagant your compliment, Edmund. Beware lest you turn my head.”

He laughed, liking her quick mind, which could repartee with him so easily. “On more serious and mundane matters,” he said. “I have come to tell you that we will receive Father Martin’s blessing upon the church steps at eleven this morning. My sister, Dorothy, and her husband, Richard, will come with Tony to witness it.”

“I would repeat my vows, my lord. This time with my husband, and not a proxy. Would Father Martin permit it?”

He was flattered beyond measure. “I see no reason why not. I will arrange we repeat them within the church, with my family as our witnesses, and then we shall stand upon the steps for the church’s blessing. The blessing must be there, for I would please our people in this way.”

Giving her a kiss, he left her. Heartha came with a tray that held soft, warm white bread and butter and honey and a carafe of sweet, watered wine. “There’s to be no Mass this morning, so you may break your fast with a good conscience, my lady.”

When she had eaten, she bathed her face and hands in a basin of perfumed water and vigorously cleaned her teeth. It was then the tiring woman with the aid of several giggling young maidservants began to dress her in the lovely cream velvet gown with its gold-and-pearl embroidery. The little maids grew quiet, their eyes round with pleasure at the beauty of their new mistress.

“I would wear my new ribbon,” said Blaze, and Heartha affixed it atop her head, smiling to herself at her lady’s unconscious preening.

The double strand of pale pink pearls with its coral heart was fastened around her neck. The diamond studs with their pearl drops were set into her ears. Her long brown-gold hair was given a final brush as her matching slippers were slipped upon her feet.

“Now come and see yourself in the pier glass,” Heartha said, and taking Blaze’s hand, she led her across the room. “Did I not tell you that you are beautiful?” the servant said.

Blaze stared at herself in amazement. Her mother had had a small pier glass, but as their clothing was so shabby, Blaze had never felt the need to stare at her own image. Now, seeing herself in her beautiful wedding gown, she was astonished. “Do I have other gowns like this?” she asked Heartha.

“His lordship had a complete wardrobe made for you, my lady. You have dozens of gowns and slippers, each one prettier than the other. You have petticoats, undergarments, chamber robes, and capes of wool, silk, and fur. There is nothing for which you lack. You are, after all, the Countess of Langford. His lordship might even take you to court one day.”

Blaze stared into the glass as the impact of Heartha’s words struck her. She was a wealthy woman. After a lifetime of poverty, although she had never really felt a lack, she found herself a rich woman. She even had jewelry! Then suddenly Edmund was beside her in the mirror, and turning her head, she looked up at him with a smile. He was garbed in black velvet, his doublet bejeweled even more lavishly than the one he had worn yesterday.

“I believe, my lord Edmund, that we make a very handsome couple,” she said.

“Aye,” he agreed, “we do. Do you think that means we shall have handsome sons and pretty daughters?”

She blushed, but replied, “I hope so!”

Together they descended the staircase to find awaiting them at its bottom Master Anthony, a rather formidable-looking lady, and a gentleman with a sweet smile.

“Dorothy!” the earl said in greeting, and kissed the woman upon both her rouged cheeks. Then, stepping back, he said, “May I present my wife, Lady Blaze Wyndham, the Countess of Langford. Blaze, my sister, Dorothy.”

Blaze curtsied politely to Lady Wyndham, although it was really the older woman who should have curtsied to her, for Blaze held the greater rank. Still, her gentle behavior pleased her new sister-in-law.

“A pretty wench,” growled the elder lady, “but then so was Catherine, for all the good it did her. Can you give this family sons, Blaze Wyndham?” she demanded.

“I believe so, madam,” said Blaze, realizing quickly that Dorothy Wyndham was more bark than bite.

“Humph,” she said, her dark eyes snapping, and then, “My husband, Lord Richard.”

“How do you do, sir,” said Blaze as she curtsied to him.

“I do well indeed, my dear,” came the reply. Richard Wyndham smiled his sweet smile. “What a lovely addition you are to the family, my lady Blaze.” And taking her hand he kissed it.

“If I had but known how gallant the men of this family are, sir, I should have come sooner,” said Blaze with a twinkle in her violet-blue eyes.

“Even me?” teased Anthony provocatively.

“I must think about you, sir,” Blaze retorted quickly.

“Be nice to your aunt, Tony,” snapped his mother. “You need a wife, and she has sisters for whom you would be an eligible
parti
.”

Blaze was somewhat startled. Lord Anthony to wed with one of her sisters? Which one? Certainly not sweet Blythe, and Bliss would aim higher, ambitious girl that she was. Delight? Merry little Delight? It seemed the only option, unless he chose to wait five more years for Larke or Linnette.

“Come, sweetheart,” said Edmund gently, breaking her reverie and taking her by the arm. “We are due at the church shortly.”

A carriage stood before the door awaiting them, for the church was located upon the road between the villages of Wyeton and Michaels-church. The Riverside Wyndhams had their own vehicle, which Lady Dorothy, Edmund told his wife as they rode along, pretended was an accommodation for her, but in reality was for her husband, Richard, who was becoming more crippled each year. It was virtually impossible for him to ride any longer.

“Have they no other children but Lord Anthony?” Blaze asked curiously.

“Anthony had two younger brothers, Richard and Edmund, as well as a sister, Mary. He was no more than six and I ten when an epidemic struck RiversEdge and the other children were taken. Mary was only four months old. The other boys were two and four. We never understood why we were spared, for we were as sick as our siblings, but somehow we survived. My sister could not seem to conceive after that. It broke her heart, for she is a woman who loves children.”

“Ahh, poor lady,” said Blaze.

“She will enjoy her grandchildren if we can ever get that scamp of a nephew of mine to marry.”

“Why hasn’t he?”

“I do not know, except that it has never pleased him to do so. I wed with Cathy the day after my sixteenth birthday.”

“When is your birthday?” Blaze demanded. “I know so little of you.”

“August twenty-eighth. I have just celebrated my thirty-fifth year.”

“I will be sixteen on November thirtieth,” she replied. “You were married three years to Lady Catherine before I was even born.”

“Nonetheless, despite my vast age, Blaze, I promise that once we are physically united I shall more than do my duty by you.” Her innocent allusion that he was old enough to be her father stung him.

“
Sir!
” She blushed, and he chuckled.

The carriage drew up before the church, and the footmen hurried to lower the steps so that the earl and his countess might disembark.

“The church is called St. Michael’s, which is why I had originally scheduled our wedding for its feast day at month’s end,” explained Edmund as he handed his wife from the coach and led her into the building.

A tall white-haired priest in his white-and-gold vestments awaited them. “Welcome, my child,” he said, greeting Blaze. “I am Father Martin. I am to be your confessor should it please you.”

The priest led them to just below the high altar of the church, where he allowed them to repeat the vows that Blaze had said the day before with her husband’s proxy. She felt better speaking the words to, and with, Edmund. She believed that he would now feel more of a real husband to her for having said the words himself. While the priest prayed over them, Blaze glanced surreptitiously about the stone building. She had never seen such a rich-looking church. It had arched windows made of colored glass fashioned to show figures of apostles and angels. She had never seen windows like that before, and the candlesticks upon the altar were of gold!

There were several fine statues of saints, some of stone, some of wood which were painted and jeweled, including a wonderful interpretation of a militant St. Michael brandishing his gold sword. Edmund gave her hand a tiny squeeze. She gazed at him guiltily, but his warm brown eyes twinkled back at her in a conspiratorial fashion. Oh, yes! she thought. She could easily love this man.

“Now,” said Father Martin, concluding the short ceremony, “the bridal couple must appear upon the church steps, where I will bless them.”

As they exited the church, Blaze saw that the churchyard and the road beyond were awash with people who, upon seeing the earl and his bride, began to cheer. Father Martin smiled and held up his hands to quiet them. When it was silent once more but for the breeze and the birdsong, Blaze and Edmund knelt before the cleric upon the stone steps of the church while he blessed them in a loud voice that could be heard by even the farthest spectator. When he removed his hands from their heads and they arose to face their people, a mighty cheer burst from the throats of all those present.

“God bless the countess!” and “Long life, and an heir for Langford!” were typical of the words called to them.

The earl and his countess reentered their carriage, and, escorted by the crowds, moved once more down the road back to RiversEdge, where a great feast for all had been set up in the gardens of the house.

“I have declared this day to be a holiday,” said Edmund with a smile.

Blaze smiled back at her husband. “I so wish my family could have shared this day with us,” she said almost wistfully.

He took her hand in his, and turning it, kissed the inside of her wrist. “They will come when you are settled, I promise.” His eyes caressed her, and she decided that she liked the turmoil that he caused with her senses.

An awninged pavilion had been set up for the wedding party upon the lawn at RiversEdge. Whole oxen, roe deer, sheep, and sides of beef were being cooked over open fires down by the river’s edge. There were tables piled high with loaves of bread, wheels of golden cheeses, and willow baskets of apples and pears. There were casks of cider and ale already broached. Afterward there would be pieces of sweet bridescake for all.

At the high board there was more varied and delicate fare as well as fine wine. The bridal couple sat amid their family and the invited guests, who were mostly neighboring gentry, though none of as high a rank as Edmund Wyndham but for one, Owen FitzHugh, the Earl of Marwood.

Lord FitzHugh fastened a mischievously bold eye upon Blaze, saying as he did so, “God’s foot, Edmund! Where did you find such a beauty?” He grinned winningly at her. “Madam, if you have a sister as lovely as you, I am in need of a wife. The tiresome chit to whom I have been betrothed since her birth has gone and died of a spotting sickness.”

“I have seven sisters, my lord,” Blaze replied, her look quite serious. “If you would but tell me your requirements, I am certain that my father could supply your needs. Would you have a maiden with golden hair, or one with dark tresses? We do have one who is a chestnut red, but alas, she is but five. You should have to wait at least eight to ten years for Glenna. All are quite sound of limb, and as breeding stock, our mother has no equal. Best of all, none squints.”

Owen FitzHugh burst into laughter. “Tell me, madam,” he managed to inquire between guffaws, “do they all have your way with words?”

She twinkled at him.

“Actually, Owen,” put in Anthony, “my new aunt’s younger sisters are all lovely,
and
there are three of marriageable age. I may take one to wive myself. What think you, aunt? You are barely married, and we have already matched two of your siblings. This marriage has already proved greatly to your advantage.”

“I think, my lord FitzHugh, that you would be a most eligible husband for one of my sisters, should you be truly serious in your intent. As for you,
nephew
, you drink too much wine,
and
you talk too freely about matters which are not your affair,” Blaze finished sharply.