Chelynne (6 page)

“And what am I to do if it springs forth again?”

“Lift your chin, darling, and dare anyone to spill such foul trash about you. It has long since been over.”

“Oh, Sheldon, this would greatly shame the Hawthornes. How could my mother allow—”

“Chelynne! Never decry your mother again! I say this to you, and take my words to your heart. A child has no say in his coming to this world. It is only as beautiful and gentle as the love that got it. I knew your mother and she was an honorable woman. Any affection she had, whether for her husband or another, you were born to the name you carry and she would never have had you but for a strong and honest love. That will have to be enough for you to know...” And then with a strange tightening in his throat, he added, “For she can never tell us more.”

“I didn’t mean to anger you, Uncle,” Chelynne murmured.

“I’m not angry with you, sweetheart,” he sighed. “It hurts me to see this distress brought upon you and the question to your good mother’s name makes me burn. All for a foolish youth who drivels garbage! Chelynne, don’t let this get the best of you. It will be your ruin if you do.”

“I have little choice but to live with it,” she said softly.

“Darling, I wish this weren’t so, but if that’s the worst thing you ever have to live with, yours will be a nearly perfect life.”

She looked into his warm eyes and smiled. This gentle man had eased her through this much of her life with love and understanding. She could not leave him now with bitter feelings. She rose, placed a fleeting kiss on his cheek, and wandered out of the room.

Sheldon was frozen in his place, his mind drifting helplessly, the heavy black line between reality and fantasy growing thinner and thinner. He went back momentarily, years before Chelynne was born, to when Madelynne first came to Welby Manor as his brother’s wife. There was such a brief time of happiness for her here.

Sheldon, being the second son, didn’t stand to inherit the Mondeloy title and lands. He had counted himself fortunate to have Eleanor, who brought money and more land to the marriage.

Not long after Sheldon’s marriage, perhaps even because of it, Sylvester took Madelynne to wife. Madelynne’s father was a simple knight whose marriage hopes for his daughter had never been that high, so high as a baron. Sylvester was as old as Madelynne’s father, but that had little to do with it. He was still a fine figure of a man and had a most commanding manner. Sheldon watched with envy this fine-looking couple. Something seemed missing from their union. Sylvester did not dote upon his beautiful wife and at times seemed to scorn her. But Sheldon fell in love with her the first moment he laid eyes on her.

Then they put their lots with the Royalist cause and ended up fleeing England, grateful for their lives. They sold everything for the king’s cause and were left to meander about Europe with other exiled nobles. Both men were hard pressed to care for their families.

Those times were more difficult than he could ever hope to make Chelynne understand. Charles’s restoration seemed an impossible dream to them then. Everyone was forced to live for the moment, breathe as if every breath might be the last. It was at the Hague, where Sylvester and Lady Madelynne found refuge, where Sheldon confessed to her that he loved her. She was moved by his declaration, he could see it in her eyes. But she fearfully warned him to put those feelings aside. “Sylvester is a very possessive man, Sheldon. You would see the lash for thinking of it.”

“What are you to him, Madelynne? Really, what value does he place on you?”

She laughed a bit ruefully, for she had often wondered that herself. “A prize to look upon, Sheldon,” she had replied.

“You’ve given him no heir,” Sheldon ventured.

“There’s not much to leave an heir. It is a blessing perhaps that there have been none.”

“I think the reason has little to do with blessing,” Sheldon accused.

Madelynne’s reaction to that was almost angry. She turned away from him and presented her back.

“Come, darling,” Sheldon urged. “I know you feel nothing for him, nor have you ever. I see the way you look at me. Don’t fight me now...now when there’s so little time left.”

“You take the part of an impetuous youth, sir. I am not a maiden free to be courted.”

“Impetuous youth!” He laughed heartily. “At five and thirty years? Madelynne,” he said, turning her around to face him. “I am a man and you are a woman. I love you. I want you.”

“It cannot be,” she murmured. “Never say this to me again, Sheldon. I will not see you lose everything, including your brother’s love, for this foolish notion. It is done!”

It was far from done, especially in Sheldon’s mind. What he felt for Madelynne then, what he felt even now so many years after her death, was no infatuation. Duties prevented him from being near her often, but that did not cool his affection.

Two years from the time he had first admitted his love, Madelynne delivered Lord Mondeloy a child. Sylvester summoned his brother and bade him act as godfather. No one wondered particularly at Sylvester’s mood or Sheldon’s melancholy, for Madelynne had died in childbirth. Sylvester’s brooding silence was not born of grief, however. Sheldon learned the reasons when he saw the peculiar name given to this child. Sylvester showed his brother the document for the christening as he had had it drawn up. The name was Shelynne.

“I thought it the perfect combination of her parents’ names,” Sylvester said dryly.

Sheldon frowned his puzzlement. “I don’t see,” he said.

“Don’t you? My vengeance may come late, brother, but it will come.”

Sheldon couldn’t do anything to stay his brother’s wishes or argue the point. Sylvester would not hear his excuses and was determined. Before his daughter passed through babyhood Sylvester died and Sheldon was her guardian. A slight mark on the parchment changed the S to a C. This new name would not bring implication to Sheldon. And if Charles was implied no one would dare ask. Idle gossip was the very worst result, and even that was quiet and short-lived.

For Sheldon, the part of him that had been destroyed with Madelynne’s death was restored when he had total custody of Chelynne. He contented himself with that much of a lost love. Looking at her now brought a heavy sadness to his heart, for she was so very much like the woman he had loved.

“I had hoped it was not so, Madelynne,” he said to the emptiness in his study. “But for me it is true. Love comes but once.”

The Mondeloy party set out for Hawthorne House as planned. Three coaches, carts carrying belongings and several horsemen made up the long retinue. With every inch put behind them Chelynne dreaded her fate the more. But she was true to her gentle rearing and all doubts and anxieties were covered with poise. She was stunned out of her melancholy at the first sight of Hawthorne House.

The rich ancestral home stood back from the courtyard in majesty. It was fronted by an elaborate water spout and the trees and shrubs lining the drive were carved into intriguing little shapes. Ivy covered the walls and beautiful flowers bloomed before the carefully laid stones. A cherub riding high above a large pond seemed to watch over the ducks and swans that played there. Being married to the devil himself could not have made this an ugly place. It was the most magnificent home she had ever seen.

As their party approached, neatly garbed servants stepped out onto the landing to ease the ladies down and carry in the many trunks and parcels. The earl was there to greet them, bowing to Chelynne in particular and taking custody of her hand for the grand tour. He gave no time for pause but proudly led her through what would be her home. Every room took her breath away, the many fine trappings of this mansion filling her with awe.

With her excitement mounting, he showed her to the wing of the house she would occupy after her wedding. He threw open the door to her suite and she gasped audibly at its immensity. The entire room was done in red and royal blue. A monstrous canopy topped the bed and a stool was placed before it to ease her entry to the resting place. A fireplace large enough to walk into took up the major portion of one wall. The other furnishings—a desk, cupboards, dressing screens, couches and settees—were all done in the French style and shined with a high gloss.

From this room there were many doors. A large set of glass doors opened onto a terrace from which she could view the gardens. Another opened into a private closet and yet another led into an anteroom that could be occupied by her women or later adjusted to keep a child close at hand. And finally the door, the location of which she memorized immediately, that would lead to her husband’s room.

A sitting room separated them and oblivious to custom the earl led her through it to her intended groom’s bedchamber. This was all done in gold and brown, all the pieces large and heavy and of a design she did not know. There was a cabinet for liquor and a desk and other functional pieces, again the huge hearth and monstrous sleeping place. She noted that there was no footstool to aid him on entering and she had an instant vision of a little man, the size and stature of the earl, making a long running leap into the bed on their wedding night. Hesitantly she asked the whereabouts of his son.

“He seldom confides in me, but he’s a man to find duty wherever he is. You could make his acquaintance tonight, if you’re so inclined, but your aunt seems to favor having you publicly presented to him at the ball tomorrow night.” He shook his head as if exasperated and muttered, “God, but she’s a pompous creature.”

Chelynne giggled lightly. Eleanor was playing this part out as far as it would take her. This time the excitement of it was getting the better of Chelynne, or starting to. She had never been treated with such importance. The entire Mondeloy party was led to the opposite wing in the tower apartments reserved for guests of special importance. The earl bade them seek out their pleasures as they desired, his home and staff at their complete disposal. But Eleanor was adamant. They would keep privately to the tower and have their meals there until the ball. He argued that the diversions were there for the asking, but Eleanor thought a rest from their traveling more the order of the day.

However womanly her charms, Chelynne was a child at heart. Her young body was restless with excitement and apprehension. Resting was a favored pastime for overweight ladies like her aunt. For a maid in the sixteenth summer of her life, adventure and intrigue were preferred.

Stella settled Chelynne on the bed with a firm hand, insisting that rest was the most important thing now. It was not very long before the aging serving woman filled the room with her snores. Chelynne crept carefully from the bed and rummaged through her trunk for something unobtrusive to wear. Clothed in a less pretentious linen bodice and skirt, she slipped down the tower stairs and went swiftly away from the house.

The stables were not hard to find, but again the grandeur was stifling. They did not appear to be shelter for simple beasts, but yet they were. She had never seen anything so fine, nor so much activity within. Many grooms were hard at work and she approached one as he tended a most attractive mare. She touched the horse fondly and remarked on its beauty and fine lineage.

“One of ‘is Lordship’s finest,” he told her.

“Might I take her out?”

The boy seemed uncertain. “She’s new to us, madam,” he stammered. “She’s broken but still a bit ‘igh strung.” He had noticed at once how lovely this maid was and didn’t know the way to refuse her without hurting his case with her.

“But the earl assured me I could have the mount of my choice.” It was only a slight distortion. He had almost said that. “I am a guest in his household, you see.”

“You are one of the bride’s party?”

She laughed a little, considering the way she was dressed. She would resemble one of her own servants. And she noted the boy’s open admiration. She would probably not get nearly so much attention if she confided that, in spite of appearances, she was in fact the bride. “I am.”

The groom was filled with sudden hope. “And will you be staying with your mistress?”

“I shall,” she replied with a giggle.

She thought his a fine game, while he thought her a flirtatious maid. He seemed very near saddling the mount for her, but he paused and asked, “‘Ave you the permission of your lady?”

“Of course I do.”

“I don’t know if I should let ‘er out. She’s a special mare and ‘er spirit is light.”

“I assure you I can handle any mount in this stable.” It was no lie. She was indeed a fine horsewoman.

The groom bowed gravely. “I offer myself as escort, madam.”

“I should better like to go alone.”

“It is the rule of this stable. I cannot saddle a ‘orse for any woman from ‘is Lordship’s ‘ouse’old without attendants.”

“Very well,” she said. She worried with her time away. “But do hurry. It’s getting late.”

The mare was golden, a mount of fine quality. She wore on her forehead a star and white stockings graced her forelegs. Chelynne loved the horse at once and murmured to her in light, comforting tones. She was called Summer and she had come only a short time before to their stables.

“Summer,” she tested. “For your bright and youthful look,” she said to her horse. The mare bobbed her head as if in agreement and it set them both to laughing. Chelynne stroked her lovingly, giving her a firm hand and gentle touch, and before very long the horse and rider seemed inseparable friends.