Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

H ollystone Hall, Buckinghamshire, December 31st, 1822

Her Grace had been surprised to see Jessica several days earlier than Jessica had planned. She was welcomed, of course, and not just by the duchess, but by the wider family.

Both of her sisters were there, with their husbands and children, as well as another two base-born sons of the old Duke of Haverford—David Wakefield, with his wife Prue and their tribe of children, and Dom Finchley, who was married to Martin’s sister Chloe.

The Finchley’s two children had been absorbed into the horde of youngsters of all ages that had been given the freedom the house. At any moment, one might find a tumble of babies in the parlour, a gaggle of little girls playing tag in the ballroom, half a dozen boys and perhaps a couple of their sisters sliding down a banister, a mixed group of slightly older boys and girls planning theatricals in the music room, and more.

They were not just Haverford connections, of course, but also Winshires. The Winshire family group was big enough on its own, with the duke’s six England-based children and two nieces, plus his two sisters-in-law, and assorted husbands, wives and children. Also, some of the duke’s foreign retainers from the mountains of Central Asia were also dear friends, as close as family, and they and their wives and children swelled the numbers still further.

Jessica had wanted bustle, and she certainly found it. And it was fun. It was chaotic, busy, and joyful. None of it, however, prevented her from missing Martin. She scolded herself, but it was no good. She was in love. “And why not?” she asked herself, part way through her second restless night. “He is single. I am single. Yes, he left, but I told him I was not interested in marriage, that I wanted a liaison for as long as it snowed. And perhaps that is all he wanted, too.”

But his kindness, his passion, his respect—didn’t they show that he cared? If there was a chance of more, shouldn’t she find out? Once the holiday was over, of course. Her family was so pleased to see her, and she would not disappoint them. But afterwards, what was to stop her from going to Yorkshire and asking Martin how he felt about her? Only her pride, but she didn’t intend to let that stand in her way.

Meanwhile, she had a house party to enjoy, noisy and chaotic as it was. There were oases of calm amid all the rumpus, of course. Her Grace had designated several places for people to go when they wished for quiet. One such parlour was used mainly by the women at the house party, for writing letters, reading, or quiet conversation, perhaps with sewing or knitting on their laps.

Elsewhere, there was a library, a painting studio, a billiards room, a room set aside for table games—such as cards, backgammon, and chess—and even a smoking room for those with what the duchess described as “that horrible habit.”

Jessica liked the peace of the ladies’ parlour, and spent part of each day there, catching up with her sisters and others. She retreated there in the early afternoon of New Year’s Eve, and found several others seeking refuge after a rather noisy parade through the house.

Some of the fathers had organised the children into a procession, celebrating the end of the old year and the start of the new. They had been supplied with instruments from the music room, though only some of them knew how to play. The others had been given things to bang, and encouraged to make as much noise as possible. Yes, and to shout and shriek as well.

“The din frightens the bad spirits,” the men claimed. “Make a loud enough noise, and we shall all have a good year.”

“The children had a wonderful time,” said Sophia, Lady Sutton, Winshire’s daughter-in-law.

“It was fun to watch,” Chloe Finchley remarked. Jessica had expected to be embarrassed when she saw Chloe, and she was. But, of course, Chloe had no idea that Jessica had been swiving her brother. She hid her embarrassment and did her best to behave naturally.

“Fun to watch from far enough away to protect one’s hearing,” said Cherry, Haverford’s duchess.”

“Where did they get the idea?” Jessica wondered.

“That was Dom,” Chloe admitted. “He heard about it from a neighbour who has been in China.”

“It was wonderful to see some of the shyer children coming out of their shells,” Cherry remarked.

Jessica had been wondering her stepdaughters would have reacted. Johanna would have loved it. Margaret would have been polite about it. Elizabeth would probably have stuck to Margaret’s side, too shy to make much noise herself, but fascinated by the whole affair. Margaret, Elizabeth and Johanna loved their last stay at Hollystone Hall, before Jessica’s wedding to their father. How much more would they enjoy it now they were six years older?

“I wish the Dowager Lady Colyton had let me have my stepdaughters for the holidays. I wrote and asked, but she made no reply.” She had not had much hope. Mother Colyton had never replied to one of her letters, and nor had she let the girls do so. She was as rigid and unforgiving as her son. Jessica worried so much about the three girls in that woman’s care.

“Jessica, you must not have heard,” Matilda said. “Lady Colyton died a few weeks ago. My friend Pansy wrote to tell me—she and her husband have an estate near the Colyton estate in Warwickshire. An apoplexy, apparently.”

Jessica found herself standing, every fibre urging her to leave immediately and rush to the children’s defence. “Does she say what has become of the girls?” she asked.

“She did not. I suppose the new Lord Colyton has charge of them,” Matilda said, frowning a little.

Jessica’s mind was working again. She resumed her seat. She could hardly fly out the door and ride to Warwickshire. She did not even know if the girls were at the estate, nor whether they were in any kind of danger. “My poor darlings. I wonder if Aunt Eleanor has an acquaintance who might know.”

The other ladies laughed. Her Grace always knew someone who could find out whatever information she requested. Cherry, though, was frowning, slightly. “Haverford may be able to use this to your advantage, Jessica,” she said. “You are now the girls’ closest living relative.”

“But, my reputation…” Jessica objected, though her heart felt as though it was too big for its chest at the mere thought of having her girls with her again.

“Is a pile of—well, I will not allow that horrid man to tempt me into vulgarity,” said Matilda. “Everyone who counts knows that the reputation a certain unmentionable person gave you is lies, Jessica. It will not carry any weight with the courts.”

“I expect it depends who has been named as guardian,” said Cherry. “But we shall ask Haverford when he arrives.”

Jessica had been surprised that Haverford was not at the party. Apparently, she had missed him by half a day. “He was called away. Something urgent came up,” Cherry told her. That was all anyone else knew. Something urgent, but not what, nor who brought the message.

Poor Cherry, to have her husband disappear for three days in the middle of a family Christmas party. “I expected him back yesterday,” she added. “I am certain it will be today.”

“In the meantime,” said Jessica, “I shall write a letter to my lawyer, asking him to make enquiries. Oh, my poor girls.”

They were interrupted by a footman with a message. “His Grace has arrived, Your Grace,” he said to Cherry. “He has brought more guests with him. He asks if you will come down to greet them, and Lady Colyton, he would like you to come too, if you would.”

More guests? And Haverford wanted her to meet them? Intrigued, Jessica followed Cherry out into the hall and along the winding way through the sprawling house to the nearest staircase. “Do you know what this is about?” she asked Cherry.

Cherry shot her a secretive smile. “Know? No, I do not know. Not for certain. I will only say that I have hopes, Jessica.” She grinned, and would say no more.

Haverford and his guests, whoever they were, were waiting in one of the reception rooms off the grand entrance hall. The footman, who had hurried ahead of them, opened the door and Cherry led the way inside.

Jessica followed. She stared. She blinked. She stared again, and that was all she had time for, because Elizabeth and Johanna were in her arms and she was hugging them with tears running down her cheeks, saying over and over, “My darlings. My darlings. I was afraid I would never be allowed to see you again.”

A touch on her arm proved to be Margaret, the eldest of the three. She had tears in her eyes, too. “I looked after them, as you told me, Mother,” she said.

“She did,” Johanna assured Jessica. “She would not let Grandmama Colyton beat me when I could not read my lesson, and she stayed up all night with Elizabeth when she had the fever.”

Jessica sobbed and enfolded Margaret in her embrace. “My good girl.” And then, gathering the other two again, “My good, good girls.”

“But do you not wish to see Catherine, Mother?” Johanna asked. Jessica freed a hand to find her handkerchief to wipe her eyes.

“Yes. Lord Findlater has her. See?” Elizabeth pointed.

Sure enough, Martin was watching her from a few paces away across the room. In the glance she took, Jessica noticed that Haverford was watching too, with one arm around Cherry’s waist. But she could spare no attention for Haverford. Not when Martin held an infant in his arms—a child of around a year and a half, a child with the Haverford hazel eyes.

The hope that sprung to life was nonsense. It couldn’t be.

Haverford spoke while Jessica stood frozen, unsure of what to believe. “The midwife lied. Or the old Lady Colyton rescued your daughter before she came to any harm.”

Jessica took a pace closer to Martin. “My baby?”

“They named her Catherine,” Martin said. “Lady Margaret has had charge of her, along with her other sisters.”

Another pace, and another, her hand out to touch the little girl’s cheek, wonderingly. Catherine turned her head and buried it in Martin’s shoulder.

I am a stranger to my own baby . But Catherine was alive. She and Jessica would have time to discover one another. Jessica turned back to her stepdaughters, and wept joyfully on Margaret’s shoulder.