Lost Love Found (4 page)

“Well, it is not!” said Bevin huffily. “How could you even consider such a thing? I—”

“For once I agree with Bevin,” Anne interrupted. “I most certainly will not postpone my wedding.”

“And I know why.” Bevin giggled, tossing her golden-brown curls. Her blue eyes sparkled maliciously.

Anne shot her a venomous look, which was not missed by the two elder St. Michael siblings.

“Then you have no choice but to have a small wedding now,” said Valentina quickly, lest the younger children, particularly the quick-witted Maggie, comprehend Bevin’s broad hint. “I am sure that you would not want to embarrass Mama and Papa, Anne,” she finished quietly.

“Embarrass them?
How?
” Maggie’s green eyes were alight with interest.

“By calling off her wedding because Anne is in one of her famous tearing tempers, lambkin. That would only cause gossip. Does Robert Grayson know how fierce your temper is, Anne?” Valentina deftly steered the subject out of dangerous waters.

Anne glowered at Valentina, causing Bevin and Maggie to break into giggles.

“Payton,” Valentina instructed, “you and Bevin take the little ones to the kitchen. I happen to know that Cook has baked a cherry tart, and there is fresh clotted cream to go with it.”

Payton St. Michael was still young enough to be unashamed of his appetite for sweets, and he knew that Colin would tell him later about what had transpired after his departure. The two young men were but two years apart in age, and had always been the best of friends. He hurried his younger sisters and little brother away in the direction of the kitchen.

“And why can you not postpone your wedding?” Colin demanded angrily of his twin sister, suspecting the truth.

“I just … cannot,” Anne said evasively.

“You little fool!” growled her brother. “You are fortunate that Robert Grayson is a gentleman. Old Mag is quite fond of imparting a certain saying to any and all who will listen: Why buy the cow when you can get the cream for free? Did you ever consider that you might be destroying your chances of marriage with Robert when you easily spread your skirts for him? Could you not wait, Anne? God only knows Valentina never behaved in such a flighty fashion. Could you not emulate her good behavior instead of acting like a milkmaid of easy virtue?”

“Ah, Colin, you forget one thing,” interjected Valentina, when she saw that Anne was close to tears. “No one ever
asked
me to spread my skirts for him. I very well might have for the right man, you know.”

Anne St. Michael’s eyes widened at her sister’s ribald remark. Unable to help herself, she giggled, then clapped her hand to her mouth in a vain attempt to stifle her laughter.

Colin groaned, defeated, and shook his head in frustration. “You two have spent your lifetime in collusion to drive me mad,” he said grumpily. “I do not intend to remain with either of you for another moment while you attempt to convince me that wrong is right and that love excuses wrongdoing. I am going riding. Horses do not talk back to one.” He turned toward the door.

“Colin,” Valentina called after him. “Not a word to Mama or Papa. Anne has admitted nothing to either of us. You have only your naughty suspicions and imagination to fall back upon. Remember that.”

“Hah!” came the reply. But Colin shrugged and, with an agreeable wave, left his two sisters. The twins were thirteen months younger than Valentina. Valentina and Anne had had a love-hate relationship all of their lives.

“Did you see the look on Colin’s face when you said that no one had ever asked you to spread your skirts? He was shocked that you, of all people, should say such a thing!” Anne broke into fresh laughter at the memory.

“For a man whose love life is as active as our brother’s is,” remarked Valentina tartly, “I think he was being a bit selfrighteous with you, Anne. A woman is a woman, be she great lady or farmer’s daughter. Both Mama and Aunt Skye are agreed on that. For lack of evidence to the contrary, I must agree with them.”

Suddenly Anne St. Michael hugged her elder sister. “I am so sorry, Val, that I have been contrary with you about my wedding. You are right, and I know it, even if I am disappointed.” She sat beside her sister and asked slowly, “Did you really mean it when you said you’d married Lord Barrows only so that Bevin and I could finally be wed? I would feel terrible if I thought you had made such a sacrifice.”

“Yes and no,” came the reply. “Oh, Anne! It is so difficult to explain. I
had
to marry. What else is there for a respectable woman to do? I know I must have seemed hard to please in the eyes of the family, but I wanted a love for all time—a love such as our parents have. I like to think that I am a practical woman, like Mama, and yet it may be that I really am not. After all, marriages are not supposed to be arranged for love, but for more important considerations. To better a family’s social position. To gain lands and other wealth, or to acquire influence. That is the nature of the world in which we live, Anne. I know that.

“Yet within our own family none have married except for love. Our parents. Our Aunt and Uncle de Marisco. All of our cousins! You, dearest Anne, have found love with Robert Grayson, our childhood friend. Our sister Bevin is so moonstruck by young Henry Sturminster that she can hardly bear the wait before they wed and she can hurry to Glinshannon as his wife. Yet never,
never
, in all my twenty years have I met a man who arouses in me either physical passion or those nebulous feelings called love. All of you seem to encounter those feelings without even trying!”

“Then why did you marry Lord Barrows if you did not love him?” Anne was not quite able to grasp her sister’s thoughts.

“I married him for several reasons. Remember, Mama would not let you and Bevin wed until I was wed. Do you have any idea what a burden that was for me? I married him because I grew weary of the look of disappointment in Mama’s eyes each time I dismissed a suitor. Dear, sweet, wonderful Mama who took one look at our father and was forever lost to love! No one, Anne, has ever affected me that way. Perhaps something is wrong with me.” Valentina sighed deeply. “When Ned came courting, there was nothing to distinguish him from all the others.

“He was kind. He had a great wit. He knew how to laugh. At that point I decided that perhaps the kind of love that you have found was not for me. I decided that since I had to marry, I should do well to pick a man with whom I could live easily. Ned was a good man. There was nothing I disliked in him. So when he asked me to marry him, I accepted his offer.

“Now Edward Barrows is dead, and the problem of another husband for me will begin again, won’t it, Anne? At least you and Bevin will be wed safely and happily to the men you love before I am considered fair game once more. As for little Maggie, it will be several years before Mama and Papa will fret about her future. For now I am safe. And perhaps this time I will find my own true love.”

“Oh, Valentina! I never understood,” Anne cried, her green eyes filling with tears. “I have been such a horrid beast to you since your return home. I am sorry, truly I am!”

Valentina put her arm around her sister to comfort her. “Do not feel sad for me, Anne. I am not really unhappy. If anything, I am slightly stricken with guilt.”

“Guilt” Anne looked puzzled.

“Naturally I feel sorrow that Lord Barrows should have met such an untimely death, but I cannot, it seems, mourn any more than I could love him. There is something unfeeling in such an attitude.”

“Nonsense!” replied her sibling, with a sudden burst of uncommon good sense. “How could you feel deep sorrow for a man you hardly knew, Valentina? Do not be foolish, I pray. This is very unlike the Valentina we all love.”

“And I cannot help but feel a trifle guilty,” continued Valentina, “that your long-planned-for wedding should be spoilt by my misfortune. Oh, I know, ’tis but a case of what Mama calls
kismet
, but still …”

“Look on the bright side,” Anne urged. “Even though our guests will be only the family, we will have four earls and their countesses, two barons and their ladies, and our cousin, Lord Burke. ’Tis hardly a shabby assemblage, is it?” She chuckled. “And let us not forget our thirty-two cousins of various sizes, shapes, and ages who will be parading about on the lawn. I think we are fortunate that our cousin Ewan O’Flaherty, the Master of Ballyhennessey, his wife, and their brood of eight will not be here. We are already sore pressed for space to house all of our family, even though the de Mariscos and Cousin Deirdre are taking some.

“Did you know that Velvet and Alex are already here? Velvet
will
have her English summer, and Alex gives her whatever she desires, so besotted is he with her still. Frankly, I am quite amazed that she is here, for I overheard Aunt Skye telling Mama that Velvet is again with child. Four sons, Valentina! God’s foot, I hope to prove as good a breeder as she has been,” Anne finished a trifle breathlessly.

“You already have, have you not, Anne?” said Valentina softly.

Anne blushed becomingly, then grinned. “But I shall not know until next spring whether it is a son or a daughter that I carry. Oh, Val! Do you think I was wrong in yielding to Robert’s pleas? We have waited so long, and he can be most persuasive,” she said dreamily. “Oh, I am so happy!”

“What is done is done, Anne. I cannot judge you, for I have not the right to do so,” said Valentina. “You will be wed in a few days, and if the baby comes
early
, it will not be the first baby that has come early to a marriage. It will be a welcome child, early or not, for it has been conceived in love. I think, perhaps, that is more important than proprieties.”

Anne hugged her sister again. “I do love you, Valentina!” she said, “and it will be a wonderful wedding, won’t it? You are, as always, correct, elder sister. The people I love the best, our dear family, will be here to share the happiness of that most joyful of days with Robert and me. Once more I beg your pardon, Valentina, for my unkindness. I am, as you have so wisely pointed out, most fortunate to be marrying the man I love. I can but imagine how dreadful it would be to have to wed someone you did not love!” She shuddered delicately.

Valentina laughed. “No, no, Anne. While I did not love Ned, we were content in our short time together. It was not all that awful, I swear it.”

“I hope not! I couldn’t bear the thought of you being unhappy, Val,” Anne cried.

Unhappy
. No, she had not truly been unhappy, Valentina mused during the next few days. Contentment was a good word to describe her marriage to Edward Barrows. She had been content. But nothing more.

It still surprised her to realize that there had been almost nothing between Ned and herself. Directly following his death, she had managed to convince herself that, given time, she might have come to love him. Now with Edward buried for three weeks—the same amount of time they had been married—she knew she would never have loved him. Been fond of him and cared for him, aye. But it would never have amounted to more.

She was grateful that, even in her shock over Ned’s death, she had had the presence of mind to instruct the bailiff in the running of the estate during her absence. Later, perhaps, she might send her brother, Payton, to oversee the property for her.

Their vast and scattered family began arriving for Anne’s wedding. Their Aunt de Marisco, Skye, would bear most of the guests, for many were her children and grandchildren. Up from Devon came Captain Murrough O’Flaherty with his pretty wife, Joan, and their six children. The family had teased Murrough for years over the size of his family, pretending amazement that he had any children at all, considering that most of his time was spent at sea. Murrough, his skin wind-bronzed, his blue eyes crinkled at the corners from years of squinting into the sun, bore their jibes good-naturedly. He insisted that his brood of three sons and three daughters proved that, when he was at home, he spent his time there to his best advantage.

Willow, the lovely Countess of Alcester and Skye O’Malley de Marisco’s eldest daughter, reached Queen’s Malvern in a convoy of five coaches, with a dozen outriders. They thundered up the graveled drive with great importance.

“Thank God she is not staying here.” Lord Bliss laughed when his sister reported the arrival. “Why must Willow travel with so great and ostentatious a party?”

“She and James will not ride with the children,” said Skye, “not that they are all that young any longer, but they are a rambunctious and noisy brood. It astounds me that my prim and proper, oh-so-English daughter should have mothered such offspring.”

“Like their grandmother,” murmured Lord Bliss.

Ignoring him, Lady de Marisco continued, “Willow and James rode in the first coach. There was a coach for their four daughters, another for their four sons, a coach for the baggage, and another for all of their servants. I will say for Willow that she is a thoughtful guest and does not burden my servants with her family.

“Of course, James and the two oldest boys brought their own horses. Henry and Francis consider themselves quite above the two younger boys and are apt to lose patience with them on a long journey. With the horses, they have the option of riding when the confines of the coach become too close.”

From Devon came Lady de Marisco’s third son, the Earl of Lynmouth, his countess, and their family. Robert Southwood, called Robin by his intimates, would shortly be celebrating his thirty-seventh birthday. He was the handsome image of his late father, but lacked Geoffrey Southwood’s slightly sardonic look, for Robin was a happy man who had led a singularly fortunate life, never knowing serious sorrow until he was left a widower with three tiny daughters, all still in infancy. He had found undreamed-of happiness with his second wife, the beautiful, golden-haired Angel Christman, whose three stepdaughters, Elsbeth, Catherine, and Anne, could remember no mother but their gentle and aptly named stepmother.

Her marriage to their father had given them not only a loving mother but eventually a houseful of siblings as well. Nine months after their father’s marriage to Angel, she had borne her husband his first son, named Geoffrey after his grandfather. Young Geoff was followed in 1591, 1594, and 1596 by three brothers; and a year ago, to Angel and Robin’s delight, baby Laura arrived.