Sebastian sighed. “Go sit in the upper hall where Evans can keep an eye on you. Do not give him any trouble. His sciatica is acting up today, and you will not . . .do you hear me? . . . will NOT make him chase you.”
Two lower lips thrust out, and twin mulish expressions looked up at him. “I mean it, boys. Do not make me have to send for John Stableman and Tom Gardener to stand guard over you.”
“You don’t have to send for the footmen,” Nick said resentfully. “We’re going.”
“Yes, we are going.” Luke added.
Evans, the aging butler had come to the top of the stairs. “Master Nick, Master Luke, I have gingerbread and tea in the butlery. If you would be so kind as to come with me?”
The boys bounced off with the old gentleman, chattering happily, as if nothing at all had happened. Probably should have forbidden the gingerbread, but that would just make it hard on Evans.
Sebastian headed up the stairs to the ancient garderobe on the battlements. Who knew how the boys had managed to coax the poor fellow into relieving his indigestion there. It was certain that his room was equipped with a perfectly serviceable chamber pot.
No doubt when the tutor was released, he would be one more in a long line of unsuccessful gentlemen who had attempted to instruct his two irrepressible brothers.
The tutor was indeed ready to leave as soon as the wedge shoved under the garderobe door was removed. As Sebastian opened his mouth to speak, the fellow held up his hand, palm out.
“No, no, Your Grace. I appreciate the honor you have done me in offering me this position. But I cannot in good conscience continue. The boys hate me so much that they left a viper in my commode this morning and I was forced to avail myself of this necessary. I have received an invitation from the proprietress of a prominent school for young ladies. I truly believe, begging your pardon, that I should avail myself of it.”
“Very well,” Sebastian said. “If you will go down to the exchequer’s office, he will give you your pay for the time you have been with us. I hope your new position works out well for you. Do you need a carriage?”
“Only to the village, Your Grace. I have booked passage on the mail coach that comes through tomorrow.”
Ah. So he had already been planning to leave. Well enough. But if he thinks that teaching girls will be easier than managing my boys, he should have a conversation with Mistress Melody, the spinster who teaches Dame School in the village. Aloud Sebastian said, “I will send word to the stable to have it sent around.”
“Thank you, Your Grace. It has been a most enlightening experience.”
“You are . . . welcome. However, just one word. Perhaps you are aware that eight-year-olds take things literally and are not up on verbal nuance? Luke took your comment that he had blotted his copybook as a literal event. Since he is quite proud of his penmanship, he took offense.”
“He thought I meant his actual copybook? Oh, dear. I am sorry to have given the wrong impression.”
“Perhaps that is a lesson you should take with you, my good school master.”
With that, Sebastian turned the fellow over to one of the footmen. It might have been Gardener, or was it Stableman? The two were nearly inseparable, and he was forever getting them mixed up. Both were village lads that Evans had trained up. Whichever it was, he gravely accompanied the tutor, courteously assisting the inept fellow forever from their lives.
Sebastian frowned at the tutor’s departing back. The big question now was what to do with his brothers? The twins were sure to get into mischief if they were allowed to roam free on their own recognizance. And there was the matter of the snake in the commode. Finding it would frighten the maids.
It was scarcely fair to the footmen to expect them to be in charge of the lively miscreants. If he posted up to London to put an ad in the papers, that would give the boys four days to terrorize the estate. Calling in Nurse Augusta, their elderly nannie, would do no good. She indulged their every whim, and was often found napping when she should have been keeping an eye on them.
“Boys will be boys,” she would comment. “They are a lively pair. They quite wear me out. But they are good lads.”
The devil of it was they were good lads, and Sebastian would very much like for them to remain good lads. He suspected that they would not if they were allowed to run wild on the estate, doing as they pleased. There was nothing for it. He would have to take them in hand himself until another tutor could be found. He would send his secretary to place the ads.
Sighing, he went to collect the lively pair from Evans. The aging butler would look put upon, since looking after young boys was not part of his regular job. Sebastian knew that the old fellow secretly doted upon the twins and would cheerfully indulge them in gingerbread and crumpets without end.
Sebastian smiled to himself. He remembered a few gingerbread and crumpet feasts of his own. Evans would have made an excellent grandfather.
Putting on the sternest face he could muster, he knocked at the door of the butlery. Not even he dared disturb the sanctity of Evans’s domain.
“Come in, Your Grace. The boys were just telling me how they made this marvel. It seems that John Stableman’s grandfather taught them the way of it.” A cunningly articulated wooden snake dangled from one finger. “Martha Louisa found it, and cleansed it before bringing it to me.”
Evans looked suitably grave, but a slight crinkling at the corners of his eyes gave him away. Sebastian looked at it, blinked, tried to keep his stern expression, then burst out laughing. “This was the vicious viper?”
Both boys nodded solemnly.
“And what upset his tummy?”
The boys looked at each other. “Well, he might have had thirds of Mrs. Buskins prune frumenty.”
“And how did he get three helpings?”
The boys looked at each other. “We gave him ours,” Nick said virtuously.
Sebastian looked at Evans, and Evans looked at Sebastian. “I have got to find a responsible tutor,” Sebastian said. “One who understands boys, but will not allow my brothers to run rough-shod over him.”
“Quite so, Your Grace,” Evans said solemnly.
Chapter 3
Lillian rode steadily through the night, pausing only to rest her horse. Hector valiantly walked, his long strides carrying them out of the forest and into open fields. Having no map, and no particular destination in mind, she urged him northward using the North Star as her guide.
When the sun came up, she had no clear idea of where she might be or how far she had traveled. The field she was approaching looked as if it might be a village of small huts, but as she drew closer, Lillian realized that the field was dotted with haystacks. Their tops were well rounded, indicating that the person who had built them knew how to layer the grasses to keep out the winter rain and snow.
There were no animal droppings in the field. The last tracks beside the gate were old. Too weary to think about masking her own footprints and those of her horse, Lillian opened the gate, then closed it behind her. One edge of the field butted up against a stand of fir trees. Their dark branches blocked some of the wind. It was just good luck that one of the haystacks was near the edge of the wood.
Lillian dismounted between a haystack and one great tree. She slipped off Hector’s bit and tethered him so he could graze. The grasses were slick with frost. She hoped that would provide him with enough moisture until she could find someplace for him to drink.
Ignoring her own hunger and thirst, she dug out a small burrow in the side of the stack, giving the hay to Hector. She then wrapped herself in her cloak, and curled up in the cavity to sleep.
She awoke at dusk, hungry and miserably thirsty. She slipped Hector’s bit back into his mouth and clambered into the saddle. She then gave the horse his head, hoping that he would be able to find water. The gelding shuffled into the wood, seeming almost as stiff and weary as Lillian herself. But with that marvelous equine wisdom so common to horses, he brought them unerringly to a s
mall, spring-fed stream.
Lillian dismounted, looping Hector’s reins over one arm, and approached the spring. It clearly had been in use for many years. Little steps were carved into the rock, leading up to a small basin where the water first flowed from the stones. It then trickled on down into a larger basin, then a small pond. Lillian used her hand to scoop the cold liquid into her mouth. Surprisingly, it was warmer than the air around her.
Having only her hand to scoop up the water, she was forced to drink slowly. Vaguely remembering that warm horses should not drink too much cold water all at once, she pulled Hector away from the stream and walked him up and down before allowing him to drink his fill. The big fellow blew steam from his nose in a gusty snort, then nuzzled Lillian affectionately.
“Cut it out, you big clown,” she said, rescuing her hair from his attention.
Somewhat refreshed, Lillian used the edge of the steps as a mounting block. She had long ago learned how to mount a tall horse in the field, but the stones did make it easier.
Once more, she set her course toward the North Star. Since she had no place to go except “away,” it seemed as good a direction as any. The air was bitterly chill, and almost seemed to burn her nose and throat. But the thought of being accused of murder, thrown in goal, and then hanged drove her onward.
Chapter 4
Sebastian settled his brothers into bed. While it might seem an odd thing for him to do, experience had taught that if the little hellions were unsupervised, they would slip out of their room and go raid the kitchen or even scurry off to the stables. Having no desire to be awakened by a panicked servant in the middle of the night, he snugged the covers around each of the boys and prepared to read to them from the worn copy of Aesop’s Fables that had been his as a boy.
“Do you miss Mama?” Luke unexpectedly asked.
“Every day, and more than you can possibly imagine,” Sebastian replied.
“I think I might remember her,” Nicholas chimed in. “Her nightdress was soft, and she used some kind of pretty perfume.”
“That was Nana, you dimwit,” Luke chided him half-heartedly, smothering a great yawn. “You can’t remember her any more than I can.”
Since their parents had drowned in a boating accident when the twins were barely two years of age, Sebastian felt it unlikely that either of them remembered their mother. Since he had been twenty-three, and just down from Harvard, he remembered their mother and father quite well.
“Can you tell us about them?” Nicholas asked.
“I can, Nick. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather hear the story of the tortoise and the hare?”
“Very sure, Seb. Tell us about our mother.”
“Yes,” Luke chimed in, “Tell us about her, Seb.”
Sebastian placed a marker in the worn book and gazed into the nursery fire for a moment. He remembered looking into that fire when he was no older than Nick and Luke.
“When I was about your age,” he began, “I used to like to slip out of the nursery when Nana fell asleep by the fire. She was quite old even when I was that young, so it was a great kindness for her to take up looking after you two baggages.”
“As long as you don’t tell me I’ve blotted my copybook, you can call me a baggage, I guess,” Luke interrupted.
One of the first things Sebastian had done after the door closed behind the tutor was to explain that to “blot your copybook” meant that you had made a grave error in life. Then he had followed that up with a lesson on similes and metaphors, which led them – after a long and weary afternoon – to reading Aesop’s Fables.
“Just make sure you don’t ‘blot your copybook’ of life, little brother,” Sebastian said. “Keep your behavior and your reputation as spotless as you have kept your classroom book and I am sure I will be very proud of you when you are a man.”
“I’ll try,” Luke promised.
“I’ll do my best,” Nick chimed in.
“No one could ask more than that,” Sebastian affirmed gravely.
“So, tell us about our mother,” Nick insisted.
Sebastian swallowed a lump that rose in his throat. He did miss his mother and father. It had not been easy taking up the running of the estate as well as raising two lively little brothers.
“Mother was beautiful. She always knew just how to dress and how to wear her things to make an impression. But when she was at home, she wore simple gowns and didn’t mind having a romp in the garden or riding around the estate. She had a tall, roan mare who loved to run. But she never let the horse run off and leave me when I was riding my fat old pony.”
“I know that horse,” Nick burst out. “She stays in the upper pasture.”
“Yes,” Sebastian confirmed. “She seemed to grieve for Mother, and only moped if other people tried to ride her. So we gave her the freedom of the upper pastures.”
“And I know the fat pony,” Luke added. “We learned to ride on him.”
“Yes, you did.” The boys had only recently graduated to slightly larger and younger ponies of their own. They were shaping up into fine horsemen, and Sebastian was very proud of their progress and the way they cared for their horses.
Two young faces lit by the flickering fire light looked at him expectantly. Sebastian cleared his throat and went on.
“Luke is right. Nana was the one with the soft nightdress and sweet perfume. Our mother gave it to her, and kept her supplied with it. Mother wore a different scent. Sometimes she would come to the nursery to say goodnight before she and Father entertained guests. She would wear silk gowns that rustled when she sat down beside my bed. And she would read to me from the very book that I am holding now.”
“I wish we had a mother,” Nick yawned. “Not that you ain’t a good big brother, Seb.”
“Why don’t you get married, Seb?” Luke asked. “Then we could have a mother.”
Sebastian laughed. “I’ve been too busy taking care of you two and the estate to go courting. Besides, if I marry, my wife would be your sister-in-law. Chances are, she would have a baby, and you two hellions would be kicked out of the nursery.”
“But not out of your heart or the house?” Nick sounded a little plaintive.
“Never that, Nicholas. Nor you, Luke. You can count on it.”
“Then it’s all right. You’ll find us a sister-in-law someday,” Luke said contentedly. “We trust you.”
For a moment, Sebastian could hardly trust himself to speak. The little demons terrorized the staff, got into the pantry and made themselves sick on jam tarts, and scared the game on a regular basis. Most recently, they had terrorized no fewer than five tutors, each well-equipped with recommendations. But grubby little monsters though they could be, there was no question of their love or loyalty. Once given, they were steadfast.
“Well, well,” he said gruffly. “Enough of that. Parkforton is your home and you will always be my brothers. Now, shall we read about the tortoise and the hare or the fox and scorpion?”
“Tortoise and the Hare,” Luke requested.
“Fox and the Scorpion,” suggested Nick.
“I’ll read both,” Sebastian said indulgently.
When he had finished reading the Tortoise and the Hare, which he considered the least exciting of the two stories, he found that he still had two, wide-awake eight-year-old boys who had no intention of letting him depart in the near future.
So he sang to them an old hunting song about a fox raiding a farmer’s poultry house and bringing home a goose and a duck to his wife and little ones. “ . . . and they dined very well without any strife,” he sang softly.
Luke was asleep, his breathing gentle as only that of a sleeping child can be. But Nick reached out a hand to him.
“I hope you find us a sister soon, big brother. I think you must be very lonely.”
Startled by the child’s insight, Seb said gruffly, “I have you and Luke. How could I be lonely?”
“I’ll be good, Seb,” Nick said sleepily. “And I’ll look afte
r Luke. You go sleep now. Angels keep you.”
“And angels keep you too, Nick,” Seb replied, gently tucking the covers in more closely.
He then carefully banked the nursery fire till it was only a low glow on the hearth. Nick’s soft breathing told him that the perspicacious youngster had finally drifted off, so he doused the candles.
Passing through the schoolroom, he nodded to Martha Louisa, one of the maids, who sat beside a small oil lamp with some sort of sewing on her lap. The boys were never left alone at night, especially when there were fires on the hearths.
He let himself out, and wandered down the hall to partake of a nightcap before retiring. The weight of the day came down on him as he poured a splash of brandy into a snifter and settled into the leather wingback chair in front of his own hearth.
The Untold Tale of the Winter Duchess: A Historical Regency Romance Novel Page 2
