“Someone who lived here hid it in the wall?” Charity seemed equal parts hopeful and disbelieving.
“It seems so. We won’t know anything about it until it’s opened.”
Grace kneeled at June’s feet. “Then what are we waiting for? Let’s do it.”
Lord Morley lifted his eyes toward the doorway, where, in most houses, a servant always stood. “You need more servants.”
“We have many more than we’ve ever had. I asked some to not hover about too closely.”
“Why would you do that when I expressly asked them to hover?” Her eyebrow lifted, and he pressed his lips together. “But all as you wish, of course,” he added. “I know it is not for me to say.”
“Thank you.”
“But have you considered your safety? The wall has just barely completed. Until then, anyone could have come upon you.”
“Not really, and yes, servants were stationed there and at the front door. We really are quite safe. In part, thanks to you.”
He seemed pacified.
Grace stood. “Oh, heavens. I shall summon a servant.”
Within a few minutes, Mr. Smithson arrived with a rock and hammer. “You’re certain you wish for me to go smashing things?”
“Yes, we wish to see what’s inside.”
“I thought you might. If everyone can back away just a little.” He rested the hanging lock on the rock he’d brought and in one blow had the metal crushed and falling to the floor.
Grace lifted the box and carried it carefully back to June’s lap. Everyone gathered around.
Lord Morley smiled.
“What? This is so exciting, isn’t it?” June’s hands cradled the package.
“It is, but my smile comes more from all you ladies gathered around me like this. I feel as though I have a new family of long-lost sisters.”
Miss Standish searched his face. Did he really have no romantic sensibilities toward her? Was this all out of duty?
Then his gaze met hers, and the depth, the spark, the earnestness she saw said nothing of brotherly affection.
She looked away. Nothing about her feelings for Lord Morley was simple.
Then she placed her hands on the sides of the chest on her lap as though it was made for a lady to hold. “Are you ready?”
They giggled.
As she lifted the lid, everyone gathered closer, and she herself was full of those same feelings of family, mixed with an almost distracting sensation of warmth and expectation coming from Lord Morley. His side, pressed against hers, his earthy smell, his smile and care, were almost too much for her to resist.
And resist she must.
Inside the box were pouches—the kind typically used for jewelry—and a piece of leather, folded, closed with a seal.
“It’s Father’s seal.”
Lord Morley looked closer. “What seal is this?”
“It’s his family seal. The Normans.”
“And not the Northumbers who came to own this castle? Your cousins?”
“Right. My grandfather was descended from the other brother, the son who wasn’t the heir. He was also the most trusted general of the Molyneaux family. He had his own titles and estates. This was their seal.”
She lifted the leather and handed it to Lord Morley. The seal was of two lions. “Perhaps from the earliest Normans?”
“I think so.”
“Do you still have the ring?”
She nodded. “Yes, it’s among their things. In my room.”
He nodded, his expression curious. What more did he know about this branch of their family?
She reached for the bags. They were so fragile, the first fell apart in her hand. She gasped and peered into the chest. A necklace had fallen, and a bright red stone twinkled back at her. “A ruby?”
“Yes, it appears so.” Lord Morley grinned.
She carefully pulled out other pouches and separated out jewels in each one. Deep blues, the clear of diamonds, and more rubies sparkled back. The last two waited. Kate reached in a shaky hand. “May I just hold it?” She lifted the rubies up to the light. “These are splendid. Have you ever seen anything so lovely?”
“No, of course I haven’t.” June lifted the last bag. It seemed sturdier than the rest and felt heavy. Inside were coins. She poured some out in her hand. “Gold coins.” She studied a piece. “The Duke of Normandy?” She handed a piece to Lord Morley.
“This is rare indeed.” He lifted the leather. “Shall we read this?”
“I hate to break the seal.”
“Why? Break it. For goodness sake, do you not wish to see what’s written there?” Charity crossed her arms. “I would have gone there first.”
Lord Morley laughed, and June appreciated he enjoyed Charity’s humor.
“Let’s break it, then.” She lifted the leather, and slid her finger under the seal. Then she unfolded what seemed to be a very old communication.
“Read it aloud. Oh, read it, June.” Lucy danced in front of them all, her usual careful composure totally lost.
June nodded, swallowing. “I, William, Duke of Normandy…” her hands shook. “It is from his hand.” She looked at them all. What did this mean?
“Read it!” Charity leaned forward as if she might take it.
“I will. Right:
I, William, Duke of Normandy, do hereby bequeath this land and castle to the Molyneux family, my most loyal general, to his descendants from this time and forever. The jewels in this chest are gifts for his daughters and their daughters and so on, through time. May you care for this bequeathal and keep it for generations to come.”
Her hands shook. “Signed by King William himself.” She ran her finger along the lettering. “And here below are some markings. It looks like generations of his family.” She peered closer, holding up the old leather. “I see our Molyneaux line. I see the general. He was…William’s brother?”
Lord Morley looked over her shoulder. She felt his soft breath on her shoulder, which sent tingles down her arm.
She lifted a set of deep, blue stones and fingered their smooth texture. “I’ve never seen anything so amazing.” She turned to Lord Morley. “Do you suppose our great-grandmother or great-great-grandmother wore these?”
He nodded. “I can only imagine they did. But surely others would have worn them after. Why were they hiding in this chest?”
Charity nodded. “I would like to know as well. Do we know our history? Why the family is so dispersed and almost hidden from each other? Where is the rest of the Molyneux line now?”
“That is an excellent question, isn’t it?” Lord Morley’s eyes shone. “I’m looking at five of them now. At least we know that.”
“And Great Uncle. He must have been a Molyneux.”
“Perhaps. But who did he pass this estate on to, leaving you as tenants?”
“A cousin originally, who left it to the duke, who gambled it away to you.” She turned hurt eyes up to Lord Morley’s and was comforted somewhat by the obvious understanding in his gaze.
“I’m sorry.”
“And now I suppose these jewels, these coins—even this priceless letter from our great forebearer—all belong to you?”
He opened his mouth and then closed it. “I—I don’t know.”
Kate had placed the necklace around her throat. But now she turned to him. “Should we at least hide them with him for safekeeping?”
“Oh, no.” He held up his hands. “I’m staying at an inn. How about I investigate this situation further? Until then, hide these with Miss Standish’s things, perhaps with your father’s ring, until we know for certain.”
“Might I wear it a little longer?” Kate’s hand went up to her neck.
“The clasp might break.” June shook her head. “Though you do look lovely in rubies.”
“One thing we can do is have them all reset at a jeweler in London.” Lord Morley said. “Or sell them.”
“No.” All the sisters responded at once.
Lor
d Morley nodded.
“Though, as they are likely yours, you may do as you wish.” June hated the bitter taste in her mouth at even the mention of his ownership. She’d never felt so connected, so acknowledged as part of the royal line, as she did in this moment. Somehow the voice of William the Conqueror called to her, as if his hand was reaching out. And she felt a part of something—like she belonged.
She turned to Lord Morley. “Then what happened? To the Normans? To this castle?”
“I’m not certain. After the Norman takeover, there was a later war. The Normans were divided, and the French became French and the English stayed English. I’m not certain how your family fared in the division. That was in 1200 or so. And we will have to check our history books to discover the rest.” He clasped her hand. “But this is exciting. You are truly from one of the noblest, oldest families in England.”
Her shoulder lifted in a half shrug. “I care more that I know them than that they are revered. Being revered has only blessed me so far in this life. It has provided a barely subsisting level of life up until knowing you and the Duke.”
“I understand.”
“I like the revered part.” Kate swirled in her dress. “I doubt the Duchess of York would have gifted me this gown if I had come from a line of peasants.” She swirled some more and danced about the room.
June leaned back in her sofa and fell into the crook of Lord Morley’s arm, the sensation so much like an embrace she almost snuggled up against him. Then she started and jerked herself upright. “This is all so new in some ways and yet so much of the same of what we have always known.”
“What is new?”
Lucy sat across from them. “We have our own personal letter and jewels from a conquering king of England. The most famous Norman who ever lived.”
“And what have you always known?”
“It doesn’t matter one whit we are related to such a man.” June held her hands out. “But you’ve done well by us. You’ve helped us live here, comfortably, in our ancestral home—something I didn’t think would ever be possible otherwise. I could be happy here for all my days.” She felt her tears well, and she didn’t even care. “Especially after seeing the stone, running my fingers on those walls, considering the new and the old. It’s moving and important.”
Lord Morley placed his large, warm hand over hers, and the gesture felt nice, comforting. It made her want to lean back again and feel enveloped in his physical presence, but she resisted.
Instead she looked to her sisters. “What say you? You’re all so quiet.”
“I’m so happy. Rubies!” Kate spun on the other side of the room.
“Quiet, except for Kate.” June laughed.
Charity, who had moved to stand by the fire, returned. “I think there is much more to be learned of our history. And my fingers itch with the desire to turn those pages.”
“I’m not certain where to access such histories.”
“Nor am I, but perhaps Gerald knows. The Duke of Granbury. He is named after his early ancestor, Fitzgerald, an English name adapted from the Normans. You are a relation of his, are you not?”
“I think so. He said he was informed of his new ownership by a letter from his cousin.”
Lord Morley nodded. “He will be arriving any day.”
Lucy seemed to be deep in thought.
“And you, Lucy? What say you?”
“I think this aids considerably in my quest for a title. To give back to our family name, bring back those of title.”
“And because you’re personally fascinated with the prospect.” Charity crossed her arms.
“Yes, and that. But I see no harm in it. One of us is going to have to marry well.”
“One of you? All of you.” Lord Morley nodded. “In fact, I have just received a correspondence from the duke himself. He has agreed to increase your dowries. Five thousand apiece.”
The girls gasped, and June felt the air leave her. “What did you say?”
“He is a good man and is determined to do right by you. He hopes the added money will perhaps alleviate some of the embarrassment caused by his card game?”
“I’m certain it shall.” June’s world spun. “This changes so much for us. Now I am even more determined you shall all marry for happiness.” She looked from face to face, her own happiness growing as she considered her sisters would have every opportunity.
“And Grace? You are unaccountably quiet.”
Her hands were clasped in her lap, and she sat very, very still. After a moment, her lip quivered.
Charity immediately moved to share her chair and put her arm around her shoulders. “And what is this?”
“Oh.” She waved her hand. “This is nothing.” When a few more tears fell into her lap, she shook her head. “No, it’s not nothing. You are all talking of marriage as though it is the best thing, what we all want, but if you go and marry someone titled or wealthy, won’t you have to go live in their house? Manage their estate? What of the castle? What of us? What of our family?” She dropped her face into her hands, and the sisters were silent in response.
June didn’t know what to tell her except for one thing. “I don’t imagine I’ll be leaving. I shall stick to my happy rooms upstairs and read and play the harp. You may stay or visit as often as you wish.”
Lord Morley looked as though he wanted to say more in response to June’s comment, but he turned to Grace. “You can all visit. I shall leave the castle open to you whenever you should require it.” Lord Morley looked as though his offer would be magnanimous, but upon exiting his lips, it felt to June more like false help, or perhaps a rub of salt in the wound, at any rate—not the comforting message he assuredly hoped to portray. For could he not see the castle always felt like theirs? Something about this found chest in the walls proved it to June. But she knew legally it could not be so. She had better grow accustomed all over again to the fact her life was owned by another.
Chapter Twelve
The days approached to the start of the prince’s ball at his palace in Brighton, and hopefully before the event, Gerald would arrive.
Lord Morley stayed away from the sisters for two days and felt like all was lost and lonely in his world. He had to get back to London, to society, to his own study—something to help him remember who he was before he had become the leaseholder for a group of women.
He amended even his thoughts: not just any group of women—the Standish sisters. They were dear, as dear as any sisters could be. And the mystery of their family, their ancestry, intrigued him more than any other. He’d sent off correspondence to see if anyone knew the details, and he’d sent an express telling Gerald to bring his paperwork.
No matter what they discovered, he’d fallen in love with the castle and was quite pleased with the progress made to recover it.
Today he had convinced the sisters to join a group in a picnic at the beach. Lady Annabelle informed him of it and wished him to go, which he insisted was only possible if the Standish sisters joined. She’d grumbled about even numbers and then had extended an invitation to a greater amount of men to make do.
It had been a full week since the assembly, and today he planned to start spreading the word of their dowries. But he was loathe to do so. Perhaps he could pick and choose their matches before letting others know. For though the dowries were not the largest he’d ever heard of, they were substantial enough that, added to the notoriety of their family name, they were a good match to any man.
At least he thought so.
Their carriage arrived at the beach side.
“Oh, how lovely!” Lucy’s starry eyes were directed toward a large group of men in breeches and top hats.
He laughed. “What is lovely?”
Her face colored, and she stepped down from the carriage. “Why, the water, of course.”
“Of course,” he murmured. “I think, or at least it is rumored, that Lord Stratton, the duke’s son, will be coming to the prince’s ball.”
&
nbsp; She sucked in a breath.
“In the meantime, there are many men of title right here.” He pointed out several.
She nodded and lifted her chin. “Thank you.”
He dipped his head. “And Grace, how pleased are you to be joining us?”
She clapped her hands. “As pleased as I ever was.” She hurried forward onto the tiny rocks that made up the Brighton beach.
Charity had handed herself down in the moment when he’d been talking to Grace, but Kate awaited his hand. “They’re all so lovely. Do you think my dress is appropriate?”
“To run about on the beach in the wind and water? Most certainly.” Charity grinned, shaking her somewhat faded skirts.
“I hope so.” Kate’s worried expression caused Morley to dip his head closer.
“You look beautiful,” he said.
“Oh, thank you.”
He turned. “And now for the loveliest Standish.” He held out a hand, quite enjoying her bright yellow morning dress and her matching bonnet. “You are like the sun today, Miss Standish, except I dare not look away.” He bowed and reached for her hand.
“You are all compliments this morning.” Her small smile, always demure, was warm. And a bright pink on her cheeks told him she was not unaffected by his compliments.
Energy coursed through him, the very happiness at escorting them added an extra lift to his step. “It has been two days without the sight of you all, and I find my heart brimming with warm solicitude.”
“And so well spoken.” She giggled, and he found the sound so musical he wished to hear it again.
“And why should I not be?”
“No reason at all. It suits you.”
He tucked the hand she’d given him into the crook of his arm. “And now shall we explore the wilds of the beach? And meet these lovely picnickers as well?”
“Yes! Oh, yes, please.” Grace began walking ahead.
“Wait for us, dear, of course.”
She paused, but only for a moment.
“You don’t have to wait for them, Grace. I’m here.” Charity linked her arm and they hurried forward.
Kate and Lucy linked arms, and for a moment Morley breathed deeply in satisfaction, for all seemed right in the world.
The Earl's Winning Wager: Clean Regency Romance (Lords for the Sisters of Sussex Book 2) Page 9
