Chelynne

The author wishes to thank the members of the San Antonio Writers’ Guild for their support and encouragement during the writing of this book.

This novel is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to non-historical figures are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such non-historical incidents, places or figures to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 1980 by Robyn Carr

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

For Brian and Jamie, with love

Dear Reader

I wrote Chelynne in 1977 and sold it in 1978. It was my first sale, but my third completed novel. My children were just babies, aged one and three, and I didn’t have a car. I trekked to the grocery store pushing my children in the stroller. We lived in a tiny apartment, and before I could put dinner on the table I had to shift the typewriter (yes, typewriter!) off of it. My husband was an Air Force pilot, stationed in San Antonio where I joined my first writers’ critique group.

I was twenty-six years old with no training in writing when I decided to write this book. I had been reading the most wonderful historical novels – Anya Seton’s Katherine, Rosemary Hawley Jarman’s The King’s Grey Mare and others. One of my absolute favorite novels was Forever Amber. When I went to the library and did a little research and found that the history that drove those fictional romances was actually true, it took my breath away! I had to be a part of that!

I chose the Restoration period for my first three historical novels because Amber St. Claire of Forever Amber charmed and intrigued me. Chelynne was published in hardcover by Little, Brown & Co. It was later picked up for paperback by a young editor at Pocket Books – it was one of her first acquisitions. Twenty years later that editor became my agent and we’ve been happily partnered ever since.

Most writers dream of being bestsellers, but that didn’t happen for me right away. Though I sold my first book in 1978, I didn’t have my first New York Times bestseller until 2008, when MIRA Books launched my Virgin River Series. MIRA has been everything I could want in a partner – smart, loyal, imaginative and dogged. And I’m grateful that success didn’t come earlier – I could not have coped with it alongside kids in diapers or teenagers challenging my sanity. Now is the right time.

Now is also the perfect time to re-issue my long out-of-print historical romances. Readers have been asking for them for years; libraries have been retiring their well-used copies. Sometimes it’s hard to look at the writing I did when I was so young and inexperienced, but sometimes it’s a bit thrilling. I had great courage, when you get down to it. Had I known then what I know now, I wonder if I’d have taken on this challenge. But I am so glad I did!

I’m so grateful to this digital age for making this return to my historicals possible. And I’m so grateful to you, for looking into the past with me.

With kind regards,

Robyn Carr

August 2011

CHAPTER ONE

A coach and eight approached Welby Manor. Two grooms held on to the back with determination and several horsemen rode as escort. On the landing in front of the grand manor house the baron waited anxiously for this passenger’s arrival. As the coach slowed to a stop, the footmen bounded from their station and rushed to have the door opened for the traveler.

At last the coach came to a complete stop and Lord Mondeloy sucked in his breath in anticipation. The door opened and a small gloved hand reached out to touch lightly upon the footman’s as the woman within prepared to disembark. With the grace of a goddess and the regal affectations of a queen, her foot found the stool and then the ground.

Sheldon Mondeloy caught his breath as he beheld the beauty of the young woman before him. He had but an instant to light his eyes on her lovely face before she dropped into a deep curtsy.

“My lord,” she greeted him with a voice soft as satin.

He broke into a broad grin and bowed. “My lady,” he acknowledged.

She straightened and held her hands clasped in front of her while he appraised her beauty with a smile. Small and fragile in appearance, she greatly resembled her mother. The squareness of her jaw and the thinness of her lips were not part of her maternal heritage, but the soft brown hair streaked with blond and the finely arched brows were her mother’s. It was as if the years had disappeared, as if Madelynne stood before him now. She was positively breathtaking.

Sheldon felt a strange catch in his throat and his vision began to blur as if he had tears in his eyes. He held open his arms to her and it was much like freeing a bird from its cage. She squealed with delight and flung herself on him, he lifting her clear of the ground in a hearty embrace and she clinging to his neck, wild with happiness. When she was on her feet again she giggled.

“Ravishing,” he muttered. “You are ravishing! For a moment I thought you’d forgotten your uncle.”

“I thought I’d never get here,” she chattered. “I thought I’d die it took so long to get here! I’ve missed you so, Uncle Sheldon. Oh, it’s so good to be home!”

He laughed at her enthusiasm. “Shall we stand out here all day or may we go inside now?”

“Carmel? Is Carmel still here?”

“In the stable,” he replied, speaking of the mare he had gifted her with some years ago. “Not as frisky but still a fine mount. Surely you’re not ready for a ride so soon after you’ve arrived.”

“As soon as I might. I’ve been bound to the busk and the needle all winter, as you should know, since you bound me to them!” Her face formed a pretty little pout and then she smiled again as she stepped inside the entrance hall. Whirling around with childish abandon and flinging her plumed hat into the air, she lost all resemblance to a carefully groomed aristocratic dame. Sheldon caught her and stilled her some small bit. She was in a delirium of happiness in coming home.

“Chelynne,” he ordered. “Calm down. Has all my effort in seeing you educated gone to naught? Must I send you away to yet another grande dame for training?”

Her expression grew intensely solemn. “My lord, I quite forgot myself. I humbly beg your indulgence in this simple maiden’s brain of mine. It seems I’ve let myself forget all good breeding and social courtesies. I yield to your pleas and will find solace in my stitchery, penance for my misbehavior, if you’ll be so kind.” She fell into another curtsy and sank so low her nose nearly touched the shining floor. A broad smile covered Sheldon’s face. Every inch of her cried woman, but there was still that child, that carefree immature little girl, and he loved her beyond his life.

He covered his smile as she rose, and held out a hand to her. She lightly rested her fingers in his and he brushed a kiss on her hand. “Very well, madam. If you will go to your rooms and freshen yourself for tea, there are some matters we must discuss.”

“Of course, my lord,” she simpered. “By your leave.” She curtsied.

He gave a nod of his head and she practically swayed to the stair, her skirts swishing in a rhythmic pattern with the small steps she took away from him. Her hands lightly lifted the heavy folds of her skirt to just the top of her tiny slippered feet and she took two very careful steps upward. Then with a shriek of giggles she raised her skirts above her knees and dashed up the stairs two at a time.

Sheldon shook his head in happy exasperation. She might as well be clad in breeches for all the womanly grace she displayed. But he wouldn’t change one inch of her. She was exquisite, elemental.

An older woman struggling through the door carrying a valise and two hatboxes caught his attention. She was grunting and frowning.

Lord Mondeloy bowed to the woman, but she did not curtsy. Another grunt escaped her. “How’ve you fared on your journey, Stella?”

“Not without a bump or two, I’ll have ye know. I hope this marks the end of our everlastin’ meanderin’, but I know better. This tired old body can’t take such movin’ and toilin’. And that kiss o’ fire you’ve saddled me with is ‘bout to make this old heart stop.”

“Your disposition is none the worse for it,” he teased.

“I’ll get her bathed and dressed, m’lord, and send her down for a space o’ time with her kin.”

“Is there not a groom to bring those things about for you, madam?”

“Aye, the bulk of it’s in the cart and some brawny lad will drop it and strew it around a bit ‘fore it gets to me.” She grunted again, looked up the stairs to where she assumed her mistress had gone and then back to Lord Mondeloy. “She’s grown up fine, m’lord.”

“Aye, but not quite grown up, I think.”

“What she’s left to do she can’t do alone, m’lord,” the older woman advised.

He laughed, catching her meaning at once. “And is she ready?”

“More than you think to look at her, m’lord.”

He raised one brow and peered at the woman suspiciously. “Would there be something you want to tell me, Stella?”

“Not I, m’lord. I won’t be sayin’ nothin’ but that I think I know the reason we’re home again, that’s all.”

“And does Chelynne guess?”

“If she does she hasn’t let on.” That said, she stamped up the stairs, leaving Sheldon to stare at her back. Stella had tended Madelynne from her birth to her death and took over with the only offspring: Chelynne. Stella would feel as if this child were her own, having had her since the day she was born. There had never been any doubt in Sheldon’s mind when his brother and sister-in-law had both died that Stella would continue to care for Chelynne. He was the guardian and protector of the child, but Stella was the parent.

Sheldon went to his study and took a seat behind the huge desk. A maid brought a steaming pot of tea and cups a short time later and still he sat, impatient for Chelynne. He opened his desk and took out a gold ornament attached to a long, rather frayed ribbon. It was a bookmark, weighted down by the heavy gold disk that was almost as large as an egg. He kept it in the drawer of the desk when he was at home and carried it with him when he was out. He opened the disk into two halves and looked within to a tiny miniature portrait of Madelynne, the face so like Chelynne’s, and sat in quiet musing.

He looked up to the study door and the portrait came to life. She stood there looking at him, that sweet seductive smile, the fine, delicate oval face surrounded by honey-colored curls. For a moment he was oblivious to reality. If he hadn’t recovered himself he might have risen and kissed that lovely mouth. Instead he smiled. “Come in, my dear.”

Chelynne took the chair in front of Sheldon’s desk and perched on the edge. She poured for them both. “You got away from Stella quickly,” he remarked, taking his tea from her.

“I tried. She said, ‘If his lordship finds fault with ye, ye won’t be puttin’ the blame to me. It’s like trying to brush down a horse while ridin’ it.’” She finished with a giggle and covered her mouth guiltily, remembering he wished her to act like a lady now. “Where is Lady Eleanor?” she asked out of politeness.

“She’ll be down later. She’s resting. I’m pleased, Chelynne.” He smiled. “You’re looking fit. I’ve waited a long time to have this talk with you. You won’t be going away again.” She smiled happily. “But neither will you be staying here.” Her mouth drooped abruptly. “If you had to decide, right now, what you would do with the rest of your life, what would you say?”

She thought for a moment, closing her eyes in concentration. She loved little games like this, guessing games, pretending games. “I would choose to be the Queen of England,” she mused aloud.

“Will the countess of Bryant do?”

“Gracious Lord,” she murmured, aghast. “You’ve gone and done it! You’ve married me off!”

He couldn’t help his laughter. “It isn’t done yet, Chelynne. Had you given any thought to your plans? If there’s some other gentleman that’s met your fancy, I’m willing to...”

She shook her head negatively but the dumbfounded expression remained on her face. She couldn’t speak.

“Chelynne, are you concerned about my judgment?”

“Of course not,” she whispered. “It’s just that...well, I hadn’t thought so soon...”

“I’m not throwing you to the lions, my dear. A young bride is the best bride and you’re more than ready to be making a match. I could have seen it done years ago, but once you’re promised the wedding will follow soon.”