Chelynne (5 page)

Here she could be a child again. Sheldon had tailors sew an elaborate trousseau for her. Heavy gowns were made from rich velvets undersewn with lustrous silks. Delicate lace adorned them and shimmering studs sparkled about them. Sheer and almost weightless chemises were sewn to her size and tremendous petticoats fashioned to hold out her gowns. Slippers were cut and joined to perfectly fit her small foot. But she found the heavy garments burdensome in the stifling heat and chose instead the simple linen dresses that were cool and light. However much this chafed her pretentious aunt, Sheldon would not have his niece chastened. She was allowed to do as she pleased.

Those whose positions were secure in the manor were a happy lot. The gardeners were content to show her the arts of manicuring the grounds and the pampering of a single rose. The women who groomed the huge home, keeping every speck of dust absent, every metal adornment shining, every crystal shimmering, smiled or hummed as they did their chores. Stella relaxed here as well, feeling reunited with old friends in this setting. When her own labors left her some time for leisure she sought out the other serving women in the huge Mondeloy kitchens and over a cool ale they laughed and exchanged gossip.

There are many pleasures in the life of a young woman gently born. There are also unpleasant things that must be endured gracefully. Chelynne had been taught the management of an aristocratic home, though she had never had the full responsibility yet. She had been cornered in libraries of the nobility and taught reading, bound to sitting rooms to practice stitchery and listen to the idle chatter of old dowagers. Most important, she had learned to appear content with such boring pastimes. Now she was faced with what seemed, in her short life, to be the epitome of unpleasantness. She would be given in marriage to the choice of her guardian.

It was a thing to be tolerated, taking one’s finer pleasures in other diversions while minding dutifully the marital obligations. She would perhaps be allowed to ride or even visit her uncle on occasion to reward her for good service. Since meeting the earl and learning of his son’s probable reluctance, she discounted any possibility of love in this union. And she reminded herself that love had little to do with marriage. It was the business agreement between two families, the matching of finances to hopefully increase the prosperity of both.

Her belongings were packed and lists made for the long journey to Bryant. Servants had readied every detail and several were chosen to accompany the retinue to Hawthorne House. Eleanor had again taken on the excitement that enveloped her previous to their visit from the earl. She set into motion a great rushing around the house. She was determined to see her son improve his circumstance and in that effort she was bound to play her part to the hilt. There would be visiting nobles attending the wedding and she hoped to win favor for Harry among that elite group since she had failed so miserably with the earl.

Chelynne escaped the bedlam in the house to find some solace in the gardens. She retreated to a space behind a row of rosebushes, taking a brief pleasure in the sweet fragrance that floated through the air. Her nerves calmed considerably, but her respite was short-lived, for a figure passed her way and she saw it was Harry.

“Hiding, Chelynne?”

“Not well enough, it seems,” she snapped back.

“My, my, I do hope your disposition improves some before your fine wedding, princess. It wouldn’t do to show the earl your horrid manners. He yet has time to refuse you.”

“And wouldn’t that please you,” she said, turning away.

“More than you could ever know, my regal wench. That would be justice indeed.”

“You’re such a pestilent booby, Harry. Now run along.”

“Who do you think you’re giving orders to, my lady? I’m not one of your simple grooms—”

“Oh, Harry, leave me alone,” she sighed, standing to leave.

“You’re mighty full of yourself now, aren’t you, Chelynne? Now that my father’s got you a fine marriage, you really think yourself a queen. You no more deserve what you’re getting than Monmouth deserves the crown!”

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned slowly to look at him. She knew well enough that Monmouth was the king’s bastard son. “Does it pain you so much to see me prosper, Harry?”

“And why shouldn’t it,” he sneered. “My father dotes upon you and takes no notice of his own heir. One would wonder who means more to him.”

“Perhaps if you would show your father some respect he would find the cause to work on your behalf. As it is, I imagine he can’t see the need.”

“The pox on you, you little witch. God, how I wait upon the day the wind goes out of your sails! It will come, dear, mark my words. It will come, and when you feel the full blow of it, you’ll be doing dirty sheets for your living!”

“Harry, I’m in no mood for your trifling games. What lecherous scheme occupies you now?”

“Scheme? Why none, princess. I wouldn’t play games with you. But someday the truth will out on who you are and whence you came. Then we’ll see what grand favor you have.”

“What the devil are you talking about?”

“Such sweet innocence, Chelynne. Don’t you know what went on at the Hague when your parents were there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So, you’ve been protected from that as well. The truth is, sweet Chelynne, your mother was not so virtuous as you think. Rumor has it she kept most eminent company...favored by Charles, himself.”

Chelynne shrugged, unperturbed. She was aware of that. Harry looked at her and began to laugh at her innocence. “Oh, Chelynne, you foolish little girl. You don’t even suspect, do you?”

“What?” she asked dully.

“Don’t you wear a coin of sorts about your neck? One that the king gave to Madelynne?”

“Yes,” she replied, touching that piece unconsciously.

“Whatever do you suppose prompted him to give your mother that coin?”

She scowled angrily. “What slander do you lay to me now, you mangy goat?”

He laughed happily at her anger. “Slander? Slander is a lie, I speak only the truth. And the truth is, were my uncle not a fair and tolerant man, you would be called bastard.”

She shrieked in anger, stamping her small feet in a furious rage. “You’d stoop to the very gutters to cause me pain with your lies! Abominations, all! Sheldon will have your head for this!”

“Tsk, tsk, princess. You should know by now there’s little my father can do to hurt me. What could he do but free me from the millstone of this land? I want nothing to do with it anyway. But he’ll not punish me for this. He cannot.”

“My mother was a virtuous woman,” Chelynne ground out. “How dare you slander her good name while she lies at rest in her grave. I promise you, Harry, for this I will see your nose slit!”

He shrugged, unafraid. “I doubt that, Chelynne. No matter, you shall have the doubt while I have the certainty of my true parentage.”

“Of course you do,” she simpered hatefully. “Who but her own husband would ever touch Lady Eleanor?”

Harry’s face reddened and his jaw set. Chelynne stuck out her tongue at him, her childish insolence getting the best of her in this situation. She fled from the garden.

As her temper cooled she began to wonder where he would have heard such lies. Servants? There wasn’t one in this house who didn’t speak admiringly of her mother. She knew Stella would give her life before bringing doubt to Madelynne’s virtue. Eleanor was a good possibility, but to have Sheldon’s wrath for such an action would likely keep her quiet.

Chelynne sought out her uncle’s study, empty now while duty took him elsewhere, and curled up in a chair. There was a small portrait of her father, a miniature painted over twenty years before. She studied the face, so like Sheldon’s face now. She had been told she favored her mother, but there was no portrait of her. She looked for one of her own recognizable features and saw nothing.

Realizing what she was doing, she damned her vulgar cousin for bringing her to this. He had achieved his purpose, for she was filled with doubt. And she was afraid. What if it were true? What if she were nothing more than the illegitimate whelp of the king? She would have no right to her name, to this marriage, to anything...

She was oblivious to time, still curled up in the chair and pondering her father’s face when Sheldon entered. “Has my study become your newest hiding place, Chelynne?”

“This house is a flurry,” she said absently. “There’s not a corner here that’s peaceful.”

“My study is yours whenever I have no use for it,” he said with a shrug.

“I’ll leave you to your work, Uncle,” she muttered, starting to leave.

Lord Mondeloy went to his desk, pulled out the papers he needed, and went about his business. Chelynne paused at the door and watched him for a moment. When he looked up again she was still standing there in some kind of indecision.

“Does something disturb you, miss?”

“Oh, a petty problem. I shouldn’t trouble you with it.”

“Soon enough you will be another man’s trouble. Come, sit.”

“Have I caused you much strain, Uncle? Truly, you have been most generous and never have I heard your complaints, but have I been a terrible burden?”

He smiled warmly and folded his hands in front of him. “You’ve been one of the few pleasures in this tired life, darling.”

“But it must have lightened your purse sorely to send me abroad so much of the time.”

“It was worth every farthing, dear. This house was not the place I would have you raised.”

“But why? Why did you keep sending me away again and again? Surely I could have learned as much here.”

Sheldon frowned. “I think you can see my reasons if you will, Chelynne. Eleanor has always been jealous of the attention I gave you. She was jealous of your mother and her higher station before you were born. The only one she finds favor with here is her son, and that one treats her with constant disrespect. I sought to keep you out of Eleanor’s influence and have you learn of life. Court life is not the most important on this earth, sweetheart. All styles of living can teach you. I can see the maiden before me has not suffered ill from her many travels.”

“You were not ashamed of me?”

“Of course not, darling. I’m proud of you. I always have been.”

“Did you know my mother well?”

“You know that I did. Haven’t I told you time and again how lovely she was, how sweet? She married my brother when she was as young as you. She was every inch a lady, one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever known.”

“Were you with her at the Hague?”

Sheldon nearly blanched, but answered smoothly. “For a time.”

“Was she virtuous?”

“Chelynne, what troubles you? Have it out now and be done with it.”

“Harry claims she was not. He says I’m not my father’s own.”

Sheldon’s scowl was black and vicious. “That insolent pup! What would he know of your mother? He was an infant then.”

“Gossip perhaps,” she offered.

“Perhaps,” Sheldon fairly snarled.

“What do you know, Uncle Sheldon? Did my mother have lovers?”

“Chelynne, I did not stand guard over your mother day and night. Your parents were married years before your birth. Their marriage is recorded and you were accepted by your father beyond doubt. I stood as godfather at your christening just days after your mother was laid in her grave. Any man who questions your right of birth now takes a chance with his head.”

“But I doubt,” she said softly.

“Put it from your mind. Harry only seeks to distress you.”

“Uncle Sheldon, I must know. Is there any possibility it is truth?”

“Darling, Charles Stuart’s reputation was set long before he returned to England. Any woman he showed kindness to would be the topic of gossip for a time. Your parents lived through frightening wars in which all their worldly possessions were lost. Nobles in exile were hard pressed to find enough coin to eat. If your mother’s reputation is to be questioned because she took refuge in his court, then there is nothing you can do. Gossip is only as damaging as you allow it to be.”

“Then you’re saying there is a possibility?”

“Only God knows every exact set of circumstances, sweetheart. But I knew your mother and she was good and gentle. I doubt she had it in her to play your father false.”

Chelynne shook her head dejectedly. “I will wonder long.”

“Why must you wonder? No one but Harry would dare raise such a question and I vow I will close his mouth. Your name is Mondeloy and you will wed soon, granting you escape from your cousin’s cruel tongue. You are aware that your name and station only sealed the contracts. It was your manner and beauty that persuaded the earl, and that no man can ever take from you.”

“How gentle is a king’s bastard?” she asked softly. Sheldon’s face reddened. “You implied it yourself, Uncle. I never mentioned that Harry said I was got of the king...but you explained that away carefully. I imagine my question is answered.”

He sighed wearily. “It was rumored.”

“How many others know?” she asked hesitantly.

“Chelynne, gossip is like illness. When it’s covered all the ground it can, it dies away. That was many years ago. It’s over now.”