Realm 02 - A Touch of Velvet (14 page)

“Papa assisted some of the people who lived close by. Some needed a new place to live or needed some money. He let them stay with us until they were able to be on their own again. Papa likes to help people; he could be a knight like in your stories.”

Velvet breathed deeper. Evidently, Bran kept no regular company with other women. “When I was a little girl, your papa used to play knights and princesses with me. He was always my dream knight.”

“Really, Cousin Velvet? You thought Papa a proper knight?” Sonali now stood by Velvet’s chair.

“May I share a secret?” Sonali nodded, anxious to hear what Velvet shared.

“I still see your papa as my knight.”

Sonali giggled. “Does Papa know?”

“I think he does. Would you like to share my dream regarding your papa?”

“Oh, yes, please. I want Papa as my knight too.”

Velvet smiled largely. “Then we shall keep your papa close to our hearts as our own special knight. But it must be our secret. We can tell no one. Not even your papa.”

“I can keep a secret.” Sonali’s eyes widened as she stared deep into Velvet’s.

“Good.” Velvet knotted the thread and straightened the material. “I believe Isana is as good as new. She is an unusual doll.” Velvet squeezed the arms and legs. “What is inside her? More than cotton?”

“Papa says its hulled rice.”

“Not in her middle though. Something is hard in there.”

Sonali took the doll, holding it close to her. “Mama told Papa it was an Indian tradition to put a smooth stone in the middle. It means Isana will last until the stone crumbles into small pieces. It means Mama’s loves me as long as Isana is with me.”

“What an intriguing tradition! I would never have thought of such. It just shows how different people are.” Velvet stood and brushed off the loose threads. “However, I am certain your mother’s love will last an eternity. It is the way of mothers.” She reached out her hand for the child. “I imagine Mrs. Carruthers wonders where you have gone. Why do we not find her and have some tea?”

“Chocolate tarts too?” Sonali took Velvet’s hand.

They started towards the door. “Considering your papa loves them also, I imagine Cook has a supply of chocolate tarts already prepared.”

During the tea, Velvet discreetly asked Mrs. Carruthers other questions regarding Bran’s life in Cornwall. It seemed he had spent a great deal of his time with investments and business, but he never left Sonali alone. He welcomed his former friends at his Cornwall home, but the gentlemen did nothing more than take in some sport or some fishing off the small yacht Bran owned. The lady reported that all of Bran’s former associates had returned to England to claim lives of the landed gentry–just as Lord Worthing had described earlier. Bran and Worthing had maintained the closest connection, but the other gentlemen Bran mentioned had come often to Cornwall.

Mrs. Carruthers also “gossiped” about Bran’s efforts to help some of his neighbors. According to the woman, His Grace owned a reputation for coming to the aid of women. “Some of them of less than pristine character,” Mrs. Carruthers repeated prudently.

“Really?” Velvet said in deep thought. “I guess it should not surprise me. His Grace always showed a great kindness to me and his sister, and his mother too, before she passed. It makes perfect sense.”

“I agree,” Mrs. Carruthers added quickly. “His Grace is the most generous of employers–all his servants say so. They are most loyal.” Velvet said no more. As she listened to the governess speak of how Bran had helped her adjust to the differences between Cornwall and Kent and how he had allayed her fears regarding London’s intimidating nature, Velvet thought of the man she had always loved. Although she instinctively knew she required more information, she had learned a great deal about Bran. “A prince of a man,” Mrs. Carruthers asserted. “An absolute prince of a man.”

*

“Do you understand what I require of you?” Bran asked the Bow Street runner he had recruited to investigate Sir Louis Levering. He had wasted no time in putting his
qualms
to rest. He did not like the way Levering had effected Ella, and he would know why.

“Yes, Your Grace.” The man prepared to leave.

Bran stood to direct the man out. “Every detail,” he instructed. “Do you hear me, Newsome? I want to know who Levering considers his friends, his debt, his mistress...every detail of the man’s life.” Bran could have asked Shepherd for assistance, but this was a personal matter. It had nothing to do with the emerald or the attacks on his family; it had something to do with his father. He would bet money on it. At the park, Levering had even made a point of mentioning his parents’
friendship
with William Fowler. Bran could not recall anyone calling the former duke a “friend.” His father had held many acquaintances, and more than his share of enemies, but the man was essentially a loner. He did not even make
friends
with his many liaisons. William Fowler used people and moved on. Only Amelia Braton, Bran’s mother, had ever seemed to be able to reach him; she humored and soothed and concealed her husband’s failings through all the years of their marriage–promoting his respectability simply by being his wife.

“I will get right on it, Your Grace. I will have a full report within days.”

*

At supper, Bran relaxed into the familiarity of family at his table. Ella and Velvet and Aunt Agatha gave him a sense of contentment he had not expected. When he impulsively returned to claim Thornhill as his own, he had thought the “ghosts” might invade his days, as well as his nights. True. He had not allowed himself to take up residence in his father’s old chambers at Thorn Hall, but he had laid claim to the rest of the house. He had insisted that the staff rearrange the common rooms, taking down tapestries and removing carpets–moving furniture and paintings. Then he had brought some of his own furnishings from Cornwall. Essentially, he had created a new space, keeping his mother’s familiarity but obliterating his father’s memory. Even at Briar House, he had made subtle changes, which made his transition easier.

He smiled broadly at Velvet. “I understand, my Dear, that you rescued Isana. All Sonali could speak of was how quickly you made the repairs.” Actually, Sonali spoke of much more–of how Velvet had asked about her mother, had asked about their time in Brittany, and had asked Mrs. Carruthers about his houseguests in Cornwall. When Sonali first “let it slip” about Velvet‘s questioning her, Bran had taken offense, but then he realized she did what he had told her to do. She had opened herself up to him and his lifestyle. The best of scenarios. It meant Velvet might someday accept Sonali and become the woman he desired–the woman he had needed her to be. Besides, it did not hurt to have her understanding Velvet of why he thought it so important to bring Sonali to England. When he finally told the complete truth of his time in service to Britain, then maybe she would accept the fact that he had done the right thing.

Velvet looked up suddenly with his words. “It was nothing, Your Grace. Mrs. Carruthers was assisting the cook as the upstairs maid was ill today and did not remove all the trays, and Ella was in a fitting for her Presentation gown with Aunt Agatha.”

“It may seem like nothing to you, but to a six-year-old child, it was quite devastating to have her favorite doll lose its arm.”

“I am surprised,” Aunt Agatha’s many years as a social “sage” tinged her tone, “you have not replaced that doll with something more appropriate for a duke’s daughter, Brantley.”

Bran controlled the retort, which sprang to his lips; he knew his aunt only meant well with her criticism. “I assure you, Your Grace, that I could buy the most expensive doll ever created, and Sonali would want Isana instead. In their early months together, her mother made it for her; it is all Sonali has by which to remember Ashmita.”

“But your wife...” Ella began and quickly changed her words. In Cornwall, he had told her that Ashmita died in childbirth–a contradiction to what he now said. “I mean, Ashmita only lived a short time after Sonali’s birth.”

“Barely a month.” Bran stared off as if seeing something they did not.

Velvet ventured softly. “That long? I thought it might have been sooner.” She shot a glance at Eleanor. They had discussed some of this when Bran first returned to Thorn Hall.

“Ashmita thought if she could survive until Sonali was six weeks old–nurse her own child–that her baby might have a chance. It was a difficult time for both of them.”

Ella noted Bran’s pensive mood. “And for you.”

Bran shook his head, clearing away the memory in order to tell his version of the story. “Of course, for me.” He nodded to Ella–a silent signal of gratitude. “I lost my wife of less than a year, but I was able to bring Sonali out of India, and that is what is important.”

Velvet noted his shift–before she might not have seen it–but now she was more tuned to the nuances of Bran’s speech when he spoke of his wife and his time in India–noted for a brief moment, truth’s shadow playing in his words. Now, he recited a story he had gladly shared with anyone who would ask. Velvet shifted with him. If Bran would not tell the truth of his wife’s death, then she would ask of something he had not rehearsed. “I thought it quite charming to find your wife’s traditions incorporated into the doll.” Velvet sipped innocently on her soup.

“What traditions?” Aunt Agatha’s curiosity piqued.

Velvet put down the spoon. “A stone–there is a stone inside the doll’s trunk. Sonali says the doll and her mother’s love will last until the stone crumbles into pebbles.”

“Actually, the stone comes from the Bhooteshwar temple near Rajasthan. It was Ashmita’s home state,” Bran informed them.

“Where is Rajasthan, Your Grace?” Aunt Agatha placed her cutlery on the table and motioned for a footman to remove her plate.

“Rajasthan is in western India; it is a princely state under British rule. Ashmita was from Ulwar, its capital. Pratap Singh founded Ulwar in the latter part of the last century; it is a relatively new state governmentally. The people in that region have aided British troops against the Marathas. In fact, in 1803, Ulwar became Rajputana’s first state to sign a treaty of ‘Offensive and Defensive Alliance’ with the British East India Company. The Rajasthan residents take an interest in anything British.”

“Fascinating,” Aunt Agatha remarked. “You are well versed in India’s recent history, Your Grace.”

“I made my fortune by being well versed,” he quipped.

“But why a stone from the temple?” Velvet redirected his attention.

“Shaivites are very devout believers. Ashmita took the stone with her when she left her home. When she was dying, she wanted Sonali to have it–have a part of India. After delivering her daughter, Ashmita worked on the doll each day–painting and sewing. I brought her scraps of material from the market for the blouse and wrap. She directed all her energies–as little as were remaining–to complete the task. The day Ashmita finished the doll she passed.”

Although she had nothing upon which to base her assumptions, Velvet wondered why Bran said
her daughter
, not
our daughter.
Somehow it seemed significant. “I cannot imagine living in another country. Could you, Ella?”

“I have always wanted to see other parts of the world–other parts of England, even.”

Bran nodded his understanding. His sister resisted coming to London for the Season because she wanted her independence. That is why, of late, he had come to the conclusion that James Kerrington would be perfect for Ella. Kerrington would give Ella the “freedom” she required while teaching her marriage had its advantages. Bran would see her happy before long.

Velvet looked directly at Bran, willing him to understand her response. “I would be content to remain in Kent forever. My sisters are in Manchester and in Edinburgh, but I prefer the eastern coastline of England to any other place.”

*

“Your Grace, you asked that I inform you immediately if Sir Louis called on Lady Eleanor.” The gentle giant of a footman stood humbly in the doorway of Bran’s study.

“Thank you, Murray.”

The footman bowed and disappeared into the bowels of the house. Bran ambled casually towards the blue sitting room. If Levering tarried, Bran would interrupt. Outside the room, he listened to the tone of his sister’s voice as he waited behind the open doorway. Levering, obviously, made her uncomfortable: Bran heard the strain in Ella’s voice.

Aware that Eleanor gave her regrets to end the meeting, Bran slipped into the music room across the hall. Leaving the door open enough where he might observe Levering, he waited in the empty room until Sir Louis left the house. He took note of the self-satisfied smile on Levering’s countenance as he left the sitting room. Like the cat licking the cream.

Once the outside door closed, Ella appeared in the doorway. She looked cautiously towards the main entrance before she tentatively stepped into the hallway. Although she had tried to hide them, Ella’s hands trembled as she reached for her handkerchief under the cuff of her left sleeve. Pressing the cloth to her mouth, Ella closed her eyes and nearly collapsed. She swayed in place, and Bran took a step forward to comfort her; but Ella’s eyes opened suddenly. She looked left and right, rolled her shoulders back, took a deep breath, and headed towards her chambers.