’Tis the last rose of summer, left blooming alone; all her lovely
companions are faded and gone.
Thomas Moore, 1478—1535
The guests began arriving for the marquess’s funeral the next morning, but Drew wasn’t aware of it until late afternoon. After spending the night locked in the ballroom with his father’s body, he’d made his way wearily up the stairs to his bed. He crawled beneath the covers fully clothed except for his jacket and boots and slept, oblivious to the bustle going on downstairs.
Unaware of Wren’s new status as the future marchioness of Templeston, Newberry quickly pressed Miss Allerton into service to act as hostess to the arriving guests. Polly, the youngest of the housemaids, was sent to the nursery to entertain Kit.
The lull before the storm had ended and the house was filled with the sounds of strangers arriving en masse—carriages rolling across the crushed gravel driveways, luggage being unloaded and carried to guest rooms, and the steady drone of conversation.
The activity continued throughout the morning and well into the afternoon, when the lord of the estate awoke. Drew washed at the basin, shaved a day’s growth of whiskers from his face, and put on a fresh shirt and cravat. He pulled on the same jacket he’d worn the previous day, stepped into his boots, and left his room by way of the servants’ stairs.
He emerged in the kitchen, where preparations for the funeral feast continued unabated. His presence startled a few of the kitchen staff, who started forward to see to his needs. Drew waved them away, tearing a chunk from a loaf of freshly baked bread cooling on a table and grabbing a wedge of cheese to assuage his hunger as he exited the house.
Avoiding the drive, which was crowded with carriages and coachmen and grooms, Drew followed the gravel path through the garden. He kept his head bowed, ignoring several acquaintances who had wandered into the garden, as he veered off the path and headed toward the cottage and Kathryn.
A feeling of unease began to permeate his senses when he discovered Kathryn gone and the cottage empty of wildlife. He wheeled around and began to retrace his steps, lengthening his stride until he was practically running back to the mansion.
“Milord,” Newberry called to him as Drew entered through the servants’ entrance, “Lord and Lady St. Jacque and His Grace, Lord Canterbury, have arrived. Lord Canterbury asked me to tell you that he brought the license as you requested and he wants to know if you’ve decided about the ceremony.”
Drew paused. “How many guests have we?”
“A dozen so far.”
“Tell Lord Canterbury I’ve decided on tomorrow morning. I’d like to have it done before we’ve a large crowd. Tell me, Newberry, have you seen Mrs. Stafford this morning?”
“No, milord.”
“When did you see her last?” Drew demanded.
“I don’t recall, milord. Did you try the dowager cottage? She’s usually there this time of day.”
“I tried the cottage,” Drew told him. “She’s not there and neither are the animals. Think, man, when did you last see her?” Drew raked his fingers through his hair and muttered, “The archbishop is expecting a bride for the ceremony and I’ll not allow her to disappoint me twice.”
“Milord?” Newberry wasn’t certain he’d heard correctly.
“Mrs. Stafford and I are getting married in my study tomorrow morning if I can locate her in time. That is why His Grace brought the license and why he asked about the ceremony. Your future marchioness is missing.”
“About that, milord…”
“Yes?”
“I last saw Miss Wren beside the late marquess’s coffin yesterday afternoon. I stayed with his lordship’s body after she left, but I overheard her ask one of the maids if the chapel was ready.”
Drew rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. “The chapel.”
“Yes, milord.”
“Thank you, Newberry.”
“You’re welcome, milord.” Newberry shifted his weight from one foot to the other in an uncharacteristic display of unease. “About Miss Wren…”
“What is it, man?” Drew was impatient to find her.
“I didn’t know of Miss Wren’s change in status, milord, and as Miss Allerton was born a lady, I asked her to act as hostess in your absence. I meant no offense to Miss Wren and I beg your apology for my presumption.”
“Think nothing of it.” Drew clapped him on the shoulder. “I wouldn’t have wanted Kathryn to face those vicious tabbies in the ton with her status in doubt, anyway. If the fates were kind, she would never have to face them, but as it is, the best we can do is ensure that when she does face them it will be as the marchioness of Templeston. As a lady, Miss Allerton was the most logical choice and I’ve no doubt that she’s doing a splendid job.” He clapped Newberry on the shoulder once again. “I’m off to the chapel. Tell Lord and Lady St. Jacque and His Grace I’ll see them at supper.”
The chapel was nearly as large as the rectory, for it had been built during the reign of Henry VII when the earl and countess of Munnerlyn, Drew’s maternal ancestors, had been Catholic and the household had included a priest. The household staff and the villagers had attended mass every morning with the family in their private chapel. But that practice came to an end during the Civil War. The present house at Swanslea Park replaced the house that had been razed by Cromwell’s Roundheads. Miraculously, the stone chapel had survived, even though the priest and the sitting Lord Munnerlyn had not, and the house was rebuilt in 1705, with the architect incorporating the original chapel in its design. Shortly thereafter, the Munnerlyns had restricted the chapel to family only and ordered a rectory built in the village.
Drew stared up at the rose window. The sunlight filtering through the stained glass cast colored patterns across the solitary coffin. Those spots of color and the two brace of lighted candelabra at the corners of the coffin provided the only light. Drew exhaled a sigh of relief. On the opposite side of the coffin, keeping silent vigil, sat Kathryn.
He walked over to where she sat. “Thank God I found you.”
She stood up, immediately alarmed. “Why? Is something wrong? Has something happened to Kit?” She swayed on her feet.
Drew wrapped his arms around her. “Kit’s fine. Everything is all right.” He looked her in the eye. “Forgive me for frightening you.”
Wren sagged against him, allowing Drew to bear her weight.
“I couldn’t find you,” he said. “No one had seen you since yesterday. The cottage is empty. Where are the animals? What’s happened to your menagerie?”
“Mr. Isley is keeping them at his cottage. I thought it best, in case Margo should get loose while your guests are here.”
Drew held her tightly, gently pressing her head against his chest. “God, Kathryn, I thought I’d lost you again.”
Wren could hear the rapid beat of his heart against her ear. “I didn’t leave you,” she said. “I was here.”
“All night?” He pulled back to look at her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot and there were dark bluish-purple circles beneath them. She looked exhausted and extremely fragile. “You kept vigil in the chapel all night?”
Wren nodded. “You sat through the night with George. I thought someone should sit with his companion.”
Drew stroked her blond curls. “Her name was Mary Claire,” he said softly. “And I asked Newberry to have one of the staff stay with her.”
“He assigned a trio of maids to relieve each other at four-hour intervals,” Wren said. “I came instead.” She leaned back so she could stare into Drew’s brown eyes. “Have you seen her, Drew? Did you look at her?”
“No. Did you?”
Wren nodded. “Martin asked me to see that she was dressed appropriately. I hope you don’t mind, but I provided her with one of your mother’s old gowns. A dress made of gold brocade to complement her coloring. The Irish undertakers left the dress she was wearing when they found her on her. Fortunately, Martin thought to ask me to check. I would have hated for her mourners
to see her that way.”
“I can’t believe Martin asked that of you.”
“I didn’t mind,” Wren told him. “I came down to the chapel, viewed her body, and went back upstairs to get a dress. When I returned, Cassie and I dressed her.”
“Who’s Cassie?”
“One of the maids Newberry asked to sit with her. When we were done, I sent Cassie back to help Mrs. Tanglewood and I stayed with Mary Claire. She was so young…”
“She was eight and twenty,” he said. “Older than you are.”
“Well, she doesn’t look it. She has long auburn hair and I’ll bet her eyes are the same chocolate brown color as yours and Kit’s. She was beautiful. I can’t blame George for falling in love with her.”
Wren shrugged her shoulders. “After seeing her and performing such an intimate task for her, I couldn’t stand the thought of having hired maids sit with her body. She deserved family—or at least someone who understood what it was like to be a part of the marquess of Templeston’s life.”
“What is it like?”
“I don’t know what it was like for Mary Claire,” Wren answered honestly, thoughtfully. “I only know what it’s been like for me.” She continued to look up at him.
“How has it been?” He leaned close and brushed her lips with his. “With this marquess of Templeston? So far?”
“So far it’s been incredible.”
Drew bent at the knees and scooped Wren up into his arms. “That’s what I like to hear.” He kissed her again. “Now, let’s find a bed. You look exhausted. You need some sleep.”
“You’re part of the reason I haven’t had any sleep,” she teased.
“That’s true,” Drew said. “But this time I intend to see that you get some sleep.”
“I don’t know if that’s possible as long as you’re in the bed.”
“It’s not only possible,” Drew repeated his earlier words, “it’s inevitable.”
He carried her from the chapel to the dowager cottage. He undressed her, lifting her dress and chemise over her head and peeling her drawers and the black silk stockings with the playful hedgehogs painted on them down her long legs. When he had her undressed, Drew turned back the bed linens and placed her in bed, then he rid himself of his clothes and climbed in bed beside her.
“I thought you said we were going to sleep,” Wren murmured.
Drew cradled her against him. “We are.” He kissed the top of her head and closed his eyes. Holding Kathryn in his arms gave him peace of mind he hadn’t had since he went to war. For the first time in years, he could sleep through the night. She kept his nightmares at bay.
Drew awoke the following morning to find Kathryn snuggled close beside him, her head pillowed against his chest. “Wake up, my beauty,” he whispered. “We have an appointment with the archbishop this morning.”
Wren opened her eyes and smiled at him. “We do?”
Drew nodded. “He granted us a special license, so today is your wedding day.” He touched the tip of her nose with his index finger. “Put on your prettiest black dress—and your prettiest black stockings.”
She bit her bottom lip and frowned.
“What is it?” he asked. “What’s bothering you?”
“I’m not sure that marrying me is the best thing for you, Drew. A virgin of impeccable reputation and fortune might be a better choice.”
“Why would I want a virgin when I can have a beautiful young widow of property?” He focused his perfect white smile on her. “I’m sure that marrying you is the right thing for me. Unless you’ve had a change of heart?”
She wanted him to tell her he loved her. She wanted him to marry her because he couldn’t envision life without her by his side, but she knew that was impossible. What Drew felt for her wasn’t love. It was lust. Wren took a deep breath. “Of course I haven’t.” She feigned a sophistication she didn’t feel.
“Marriage to you will give my son legitimacy, repair my reputation, and make me a wealthy marchioness. What more could I want?”
Love, he thought. He’d like to hear Kathryn say she loved him. She’d told him she loved his father. Maybe asking her to love him as much as she’d loved his father was asking more than she was able to give. “I thought we’d meet in my study at ten this morning.”
“All right.”
“Miss Allerton will stand up for you, and Martin and Kit will stand up for me,” he told her.
“Fine.” Her voice sounded wistful. If he would only tell her how he felt about the wedding. If he would only tell her how he felt about her.
Drew kissed her one last time before he rolled out of bed and began to dress. “Then I suppose I’ll see you at ten.” His voice sounded wistful. If only she would tell him how she felt about the wedding. If only she would tell him how she felt about him.
“I’ll be there.”
Would she? After the last attempt, he couldn’t help but wonder if she’d show up. “We’ll have to postpone the wedding trip for a while,” he said. “And remain in the country.”
“Of course,” she replied. “We’re in mourning.”
“But we’ll take a trip later.”
“That isn’t necessary, Drew.” She blushed. “We’ve already had the honeymoon and I’m perfectly content to remain in the country.”
He finished dressing. “I’ll see you at ten.”
“I’ll be there,” she repeated. “I promise.”
Chapter Twenty-nine
Grant them the joy which brightens earthly sorrow;
Grant them the peace which calms all earthly strife,
And to life’s day the glorious unknown morrow
As it dawns upon eternal love and life.
From hymn 214 of
The Common Book of Prayer
Once a Mistress Page 32
