A Christmas Charade (33 page)

“First let me give you this.” She thrust the marquetry chest at him. “Take it. It’s the jewelry box of the first fourth duchess. Annie showed me where it was.”

“Annie has been busy.”

Without taking his eyes off Elizabeth, he set the box beside the lamp.

“Aren’t you going to look inside?” she asked. “It’s locked, but I think a paper knife would do the trick.”

“Elizabeth, will you marry me?”

“Those jewels can buy—
what
did you say?”

A rueful look crossed his face. “I knew it was too soon to speak.”

“Too soon?” She struggled to keep her voice calm and even. “Not at all. It seems as if I’d been waiting forever.”

“I almost spoke last night, but we’ve only known each other a few days. Then Annie said you might leave Boxing Day—”

“Sir John won’t travel in a snowstorm.”

“Elizabeth, I love you.”

She glanced at the jewelry box, sitting unopened on his desk. Her heart filled with happiness.

“Elizabeth.” Placing a finger beneath her chin, he gently tilted it so that she faced him again. “I think you’re not indifferent to me. But if you need more time … I shan’t enjoy the waiting, but I’ll understand.”

“Lud, Clive! I don’t need more time. I’ve known for years that I love you, although I told myself I had quite gotten over my youthful infatuation.”

He clasped her shoulders and stared intently at her.

They started to speak at the same time.

“You’re Lizzy—”

“You met me at the same ball you met Rosalind—”

“Rosalind’s friend … that child they sent along to play chaperone!”

“I wasn’t a child! I was seventeen. And I was a bridesmaid at your wedding.”

He shook his head. “You cannot blame me for not recognizing you. You’re so unlike that … shy little kitten everyone called Lizzy and who hardly exchanged a word with me.”

“You hesitated.” She gave him a suspicious look. “You weren’t, perchance, thinking of calling me a
scrawny little girl?
”

“Of course not,” he said just a bit too quickly. “What gave you that silly notion?”

“It’s the term used by your friend Nicholas.”

His hands dropped from her shoulders. He frowned. “Are you saying Nicholas recognized you?”

“He did. But he had the advantage of having seen me once or twice over the years.”

“The knave! I recall that first night when you came into the Crimson Drawing Room with him and Juliette, something was said about introductions being unnecessary.” The frown deepened. “Nick was grinning. I remember thinking that mischief was afoot.”

She decided to make a clean breast of it. “When Lord Nicholas learned that you did not recognize me, he wagered—”

“Say no more. Nick will bet on anything.” Clive cocked a brow. “Was the bet with you?”

“Juliette.”

“The deuce! Who else knows of my lamentable memory?”

“Annie.”

“I should have known.”

“You have no grounds for complaint. If I must live with the epithet of scrawny kitten, you ought to be able to bear a bit of teasing about your memory.”

His brow cleared. A smile, starting in his eyes, lit his face. “I can find no fault with that. Elizabeth, I ask you once more since I do not recall a clear answer—my lamentable memory. Will you marry me?”

“I will.”

She was in his arms before the words had quite left her mouth. And then she had no need or opportunity to speak. He kissed her ruthlessly and thoroughly until she thought her bones would melt in the fire he ignited.

Finally he raised his head. “How soon can we marry? I must warn you, I’ll be six-and-thirty next month. Too old, if my sister is to be believed, to wait much longer before settling down and filling my nursery.”

“As soon as you can lay your hands on a special license?”

She had said it half teasingly, but the gleam in his eyes warned her she would have a difficult time backing off. And in truth, she did not want to wait any longer than she must.

“I’ll have a license by tonight.”

“Clive! It’s Christmas Day.”

“Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” she promised. But tomorrow seemed an eternity away. Her arms tightened around his neck and a slow, inviting smile curved her mouth. “At least we need not wait for a license to kiss.”

She stood at one of the window slits in the northwest tower and in the gray morning light gazed down onto the carriages lined up at the castle’s imposing entrance. It was the second day of January, 1811. The day she would leave Stenton Castle.

Annie did a little skip, but the attempt fell woefully short of the bouncy, spritely skips she used to do. For some reason, on this remarkable day when her most fervent desire was about to be fulfilled, Annie felt blue-deviled.

She looked at the drizzling rain and leaden sky which made the morning even darker than it would ordinarily be at seven o’clock. That was it, no doubt. The dismal grayness made her movements drag and her heart heavy.

But, at least, the rain wasn’t turning to ice as had happened the past four days. The weather had been so bad that Sir John and Lady Astley and the Misses Rowland, who had not planned to stay over New Year, were obliged to postpone their departure.

From her vantage point in the tower, Annie could see the lower three of the steps leading from the courtyard to the portico. Lord Nicholas was there and the young French lady, Mam’selle Gabrielle. They didn’t seem to mind the rain but smiled at each other in quite the same way Miss Juliette and the major did now.

However, Lord Nicholas would be better advised to hustle his lady into the carriage, or he’d have her sneezing and sniffling all the way to London. They’d be traveling in Mr. Throckmorton’s coach with its brand-new left front wheel. And Mr. Throckmorton would ride with Lord Decimus so Lord Nicholas could take mam’selle to her parents in Mary-le-Bone.

As a child, Annie had once attended a fair in the village of Mary-le-Bone. But, apparently, it wasn’t a village anymore, and a great many French lived there now. And from all she’d gathered, even the French king had taken up residence in England while their own king, dear Farmer George, was locked up at Windsor Castle.

Whatever was the world coming to? She could only hope London hadn’t changed so much that she wouldn’t recognize it when she got there.

Now his grace was coming down the stairs. And Miss Elizabeth—no,
her grace
, the Duchess of Stenton.

The heaviness of Annie’s heart lifted as she remembered the morning of Christmas Day when his grace announced his forthcoming nuptials. What a to-do there had been! What excitement. Lady Astley had cried a little at the thought of losing her dear Elizabeth, but she had talked no more about leaving on Boxing Day, because, of course, Sir John must give Elizabeth away.

Before dawn on Boxing Day, his grace had set out for Lewes in his racing curricle. He had returned in the early afternoon with the special license and with the vicar from Seaford.

Emotion threatened to overcome Annie. It had been a lovely wedding in the Great Hall, with the candles lit on the Christmas tree and Miss Grace and Master Adam singing. And Miss Elizabeth so beautiful in the old silk gown and lace veil from the trunk on the second floor.

Annie had remembered the trunk just in time and told Miss Juliette about it. True, the silk was brittle and yellowed, but in the candle light it looked like pale gold. The skirt, meant to be worn over hoops, had to be shortened. But the bodice with its inset of lace across the bosom, and the long sleeves which were not unlike the leg-of-mutton sleeves fashionable in Annie’s day, fit to perfection.

With a little sniff, she turned away from the window slit. She slipped into the north wing and from there to the strip of landing beneath the oriel window. She looked out at the Great North Gate and saw Lord Nicholas and Mam’selle Gabrielle bowl away in their borrowed coach.

Annie remembered the thrill of watching the Great North Gate open. Well, if his grace’s plans worked out, it need never be closed again. The duke and duchess were staying on at Stenton, at least until they had engaged a man-of-business to oversee the leasing of the east and west wings, and a bailiff to run the home farm. They would also place orders in Bournemouth for the building of fishing and pleasure boats.

“Yes, indeed,” whispered Annie. “Stenton Castle has come alive again.”

She turned and looked down into the Great Hall. The duke and Miss Elizabeth had come inside and were bidding farewell to Sir John and Lady Astley and the Misses Rowland. Sir John had offered to convey the sisters to London, for they had arrived in a hired chaise. It’d be no trouble he had assured them. He planned to stop in Hans Town to pick up the elderly cousin who had served as Juliette’s chaperon while Stewart was abroad. The lady had been hoping for years to replace Miss Elizabeth as Lady Astley’s companion.

Annie floated down into the hall. She could not see the sapphire brooch Miss Flora had received from the first fourth duchess’s jewelry chest, but Miss Amelia had left her pelisse unbuttoned and the string of pearls gleamed softly against the gray of her gown.

The contents of the marquetry chest had, in a way, been a disappointment. Besides Flora’s brooch and Amelia’s necklace, which had both been labeled and marked in an elegant, spidery hand, the chest had contained only an emerald necklace and matching earrings.

Lady Fanny had started to cry when she saw the many empty compartments. But Sylvester Throckmorton, an expert, assured her that the emeralds were worth, if not a king’s ransom, at least a small fortune. And both Throckmorton and Lord Decimus confirmed that the duchess had been the last of the Veryans; there would be no one of her family to question the Rowlands’ right of ownership.

His grace had lifted the necklace off its bed of velvet and placed it around Miss Elizabeth’s throat.

“I said to you once that you should always wear emeralds, didn’t I?” He had smiled at Miss Elizabeth in a way that made Annie feel warm all over.

“Annie!”

Miss Elizabeth’s urgent whispers recalled her to the present.

“What are you waiting for? Go to Miss Juliette. The major is impatient to leave.”

Annie saw that the elder Astleys, the Misses Rowland, Lady Fanny and Lord Wilmott, and even Lady Harry and the twins had left. Only the major and Miss Juliette remained. And Sylvester Throckmorton.

“Miss Elizabeth—your grace! Where is Lord Decimus?”

“I don’t know. I don’t recall seeing him after breakfast. Do hurry, Annie. Miss Juliette won’t be able to wait much longer.”

“I must see Lord Decimus.”

Annie did not wait for Elizabeth’s reply but flitted off to the south wing, to the former nurseries where Lord Decimus had his chamber.

Swiftly, she entered.

“There you are m’dear!” Decimus’s face brightened. He rose and came toward her. “Knew you wouldn’t let an old man leave without saying goodbye to him.”

“No, I wouldn’t do that,” she said softly. “Especially since we shan’t see each other again.”

“But of course we will. Now that Clive’s a tenant for life, he’ll spend time here at Stenton every now and then. He’ll have more house parties, and he’s bound to invite me.”

“I’m leaving the castle, my lord. I’m going to London.”

“Stap me! That’s where I’m going!”

“I know. That’s why I made your acquaintance in the first place. If Miss Juliette couldn’t take me, I wanted to apply to you for help.”

“Any time, m’dear.” He bowed in a very courtly manner that made her feel like a great lady. “So you’ll be in London, eh? With Juliette. In that case, we’ll see each other sooner than you think.”

“No, my lord. Once I reach London, I’m afraid I shall be no more.” Again, she felt a heaviness descend on her. Her voice trembled. “You see, my lord, I am a ghost.”

He peered at her, even raised his quizzing glass to get a clearer view.

“Fustian,” he said, but he sounded a little uncertain. “A ghost, you say?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then why the deuce won’t you stay here? Aren’t you comfortable?”

“I am. But I was born and bred in London, and I always wanted to return.”

He pursed his mouth, puffed out his cheeks, and from the deep crease on his brow it was obvious that he was thinking hard.

“You don’t want to do anything hasty, m’dear. It never pays off.
I
should know. I’m always just a trifle too hasty when it comes to discards at whist or raising the stakes at faro.”

“But I’ve had forty-one years to think about it. You cannot call that a hasty decision. Only now … now I don’t know anymore what I want.”

“Tell you what. Go for a visit. Spend several weeks, a few months with Juliette. She’s got a snug little house off Russell Square.”

“A visit?” Her heart raced at the possibility. “But I’m not sure that I can. Merely visit, I mean.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t know what’ll happen to me once I get there. Whether I’ll simply cease to be—”

“Poppycock! A body does not simply cease to be.”

Annie smiled sadly. He did not understand. Or, perhaps, he did not want to understand.

“And if you don’t like it in London, which is quite possible—I’m not sure
I
like all the changes, the renovations and innovations—and I’m a man who cannot bear country living!” He frowned. “Now what was I going to say? Ah, yes. If you don’t like London, say so. I’ll take you back to Stenton.”

Annie’s mind whirled. If it were possible…!

She did not understand herself. She had waited for this day such a long time, and now that it was time to go she felt torn. She’d had such fun flitting in and out of the lives of Miss Juliette and Miss Elizabeth, trying a hand at peacemaker and matchmaker, giving Miss Grace and Master Adam a candle-lighting they’d never forget.

She still wanted to go to London. But she also wished she could go on being Annie, the ghost. At the castle, she’d not be lonely again.

A knock fell on the door.

“Decimus!” Wheezing, Sylvester Throckmorton stuck his leonine head into the chamber. “We’d best get going if we want to make the King’s Head by luncheon.”

“We’ll be down in a moment.”