“We won’t keep you for very much longer.”
Pickering rose from behind the table, bringing the leather covered book with him.
“We simply want you to look at this and tell us if you recognise anything.”
Morcombe glanced at James, who had stepped back out of the shaft of dirty light falling from the window and slipped into the shadows. Then he looked to Pickering who was now standing in front of him, holding open Selina's sketchbook.
Morcombe glanced down and, page by page, the Colonel turned the leaves for the man to look.
Quick studies of trees, boats, and fishermen filled the early pages and, from his position, James could see Morcombe physically relax. There was nothing to concern him in any of these pictures.
Then the middle of the book was spread before him and across two pages were finely detailed mini portraits, twelve in all, and all showing the same figure, some full face, some in profile, some full length, another just a sketch of eyes and a brow.
James saw Morcombe stiffen and stare.
“Do you recognise the man?” asked Pickering evenly.
“This is a trick. You ask me about Reynold and you know who ’e is all along!”
Pickering glanced at James who looked as shocked as Morcombe himself.
He held the sketchbook closer to Morcombe.
“You know the man illustrated here?”
“Aye, we’ve only just been talkin’ about ’im!”
“Name him,” Pickering commanded, “but remember that you will be obliged to swear it under oath before a magistrate.”
Morcombe nodded at the dozen portraits drawn by Selina.
“That there is Henry Reynold.”
Pickering closed the book and returned it to the table. As he did so, without looking back at Morcombe, he addressed the guard.
“Take him back to his cell.”
As the door closed behind the prisoner and escort, James dropped into the seat vacated by Morcombe.
“Have you found your answer, Sir James?” asked Pickering, turning to regard him.
James shook his head.
“I have even more questions now.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
22 August 1790
By daybreak, Selina was up and dressed in one of her old grey gowns. She slipped away from the house, retreating to the relative seclusion of the hedge maze where the noise of the household at work faded into the background.
She had recovered well from her fall and the chill, and after three days of confinement she had started to chafe under the well-meaning hovering of so many people. The application of a pungent salve saw her bruises fade, and she insisted that she be allowed fresh air and a stroll in the gardens twice a day, which she was convinced assisted her recovery.
Even Lady Catherine had been genuine in her solicitude. Without Abigail to needle, and with the burgeoning romance between her and Colonel Pickering, Catherine appeared to have changed for the better.
It was nothing short of miraculous, in Selina’s opinion. Every now and again, the edge of Lady Catherine’s acerbic manner would slice through—particularly in frustration with Edith’s flightiness—but it was now more often than not tempered by greater self-control.
In the hedge maze, Selina basked in the gentle morning warmth as early light cloud retreated. She traced the lines of the sundial with her finger; its bronze gnomon glinted in the sun, casting a shadow to reveal the time.
In just five hours time, she would be Lady Selina Ann Mitchell, wife of Sir James Mitchell, sixth baronet and Lord Penventen.
In so many ways she felt that she was already James’ wife in everything but name. Yet knowing he was to become hers for life, this sought-after society favourite who had swept her off her feet at a royal ball in far-off London, still seemed unreal.
Thanks to the determinedly diligent assistance of Lady Margaret and her beloved sister-in-law Sarah, all preparations for the wedding were complete. The house was, as her father would have said, “ship-shape in Bristol fashion”.
She smiled as she thought of her father. She intended to wear a miniature of him and her mother tied to her wrist with a blue ribbon for remembrance. William, of course, would have her other arm to give her away.
James had spent the night in Newquay with Jackson and some of his friends from London, and would meet her at St Petroc’s church at eleven o’clock. Their wedding breakfast would take place in Penventen’s Great Hall, while a festival for the people of Padstow would be held in the grounds of the Hall.
Lady Christina, who was at least speaking to her directly now she was to become James’ wife, had been determined to play a role in preparing her son’s wedding. But with Lady Margaret firmly establishing herself as a surrogate mother-of-the-bride and flaunting the fact to her daughter, Selina was thankful that Sarah was masterful in her role as peacemaker. In the end, Lady Christina was to arrange the reception, and the compromise was deemed acceptable by both sides.
By now Selina found, as much as she loved Lady Margaret, the tension between her and her daughter was draining.
However, James had told her that would cease to be an issue after today.
Lady Christina would be in Truro by the time they returned from their honeymoon and Lady Margaret would have returned home to Cheshire.
The sound of workmen erecting tents and marquees competed with the calls of peacocks annoyed at the disturbance, and awoke Selina from her thoughts.
The sun caught the ring she wore on her left hand. She studied the beautiful ruby posy James had given her the afternoon they arrived back from the masquerade ball.
In the light and warmth of their wedding morning, Selina returned to a treasured memory of how they had managed to slip away from the rest of the household. James had brought her to the centre of the hedge maze where he kissed her deeply. She felt the taste and texture of his lips and his tongue imprinted on hers.
Selina hugged him tightly, rubbing her cheek against linen of his shirt. She revelled in the strength of his arms around her and the steady beat of his heart.
“Not too many people know yet, it’s not too late to change your mind,” he whispered.
She looked up at him.
“I won’t if you won’t,” she replied, eliciting a laugh for her husband-to-be.
He continued soberly. “I never thought I would be so glad to be married. I never realised how empty my life had been until I met you, and with each day I appreciate how impossible it is to live without you”.
James dipped into his waistcoat pocket and placed the ring on her finger.
“‘Who can find a virtuous woman? For her price is far above rubies’,” he recited. “‘The heart of her husband doth safely trust in her, so that he shall have no need of spoil. She will do him good and not evil all the days of her life.’
“I think I begin to understand what the Bible means when it talks about ‘two become one flesh’. You are as much a part of me as I am of myself.
“The one thing I know for certain is that I’m the one getting the better end of the bargain.”
Selina drew in breath to hold back tears. She kissed the hands that still held hers.
“I know you James. You’re a man of honour and passion and I have to confess that I may have fallen in love with you on the first night we met,” she declared. “And I love you more now and I will love you even more with every year we’re man and wife.”
Selina was still smiling at the recollection when she startled back to reality by the voice of Lady Catherine.
“Selina! What are you doing hiding here? People are looking for you. You’ll bring on Sarah’s labour early, Lady Christina will have a stroke which will cause Lady Margaret to die of happiness, and Edith will become hysterical.”
“I certainly wouldn’t want to be responsible for all of that,” Selina answered gravely but with a twinkle of merriment in her eyes.
Catherine drew the cord of her emerald bed robe more securely around her waist and
scolded with an equal spark.
“Then get back inside to be plucked, primped, and preened within an inch of your life and made completely unrecognisable to the groom.”
* * *
To her dismay, Selina discovered that Catherine was only half joking.
She had already determined how she would wear her hair and was forced to resist when she saw the curling tongs being heated over the fire. Her chestnut locks were held in place with a double gold hair band and dressed in only light curls.
Another battle loomed over make-up. Here Selina compromised, refusing to have her face powdered, but consenting to her cheeks being lightly rouged and a touch of colour on the lips.
Fortunately, it was too late for others to make changes to her gown. It was one of her own choosing, in peach satin with a wide scoop neck, embroidered with blossoms in pink silk thread. Two pink bows were stitched just below the shoulders.
The gown fitted her slender waist and flared out to reveal a split skirt embroidered with larger flowers in pink silk along its edges. The under skirt was in pale rose satin, a shade lighter than the pink embroidery on the skirt above.
Her traditional bouquet was pale pink roses interspersed with orange blossom. Her only jewellery was her posy ring, the miniatures of her parents at her wrist, and pearl studs at her ears, a gift from her brother.
Now, as the hour approached, William arrived at her bedroom door and watched his sister examine her ensemble in the cheval mirror.
“You are the second most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he told her.
“You can save your flattery, Sarah’s already left for the church,” she told her brother’s reflection with good humour.
“Both Father and Maman would be proud of you,” William affirmed, taking her arm to lead her to the carriage that waited at the front of Penventen Hall.
“And I couldn’t be happier that you’re not only marrying for love, but also marrying a man that I’m proud to welcome into my home.
“Sarah tells me that she knew he was the one for you the moment she laid eyes on him.”
“Your wife is an incurable romantic,” Selina retorted.
“I know. Why do you think I have four children and another on the way?”
* * *
James cast an eye down the aisle of St Petroc’s Church, nodding and smiling at people in the pews as he recognised them, nervously twisting the ring Selina had presented him two weeks ago. It was gold with a square cut ruby set flush in the band. He’d not given much thought of wearing a ring himself, but Selina insisted that she provide him with a token for the wedding.
St Petroc’s was filled to capacity with a mix of the “right” people and genuine friends from both London and the local community.
“So, any last words of advice before Selina arrives?” James whispered to Jackson who stood beside him as his best man.
Both men were dressed alike in navy blue. Their breeches were tucked into highly polished black boots. The jackets were fitted to the waist and their cream shirts were complemented by cream satin cravats.
In fact, they looked so similar it was only Jackson’s fair hair that distinguished the men from a distance.
“Don’t forget to breathe,” Jackson answered sagely.
James gave him a quizzical look.
Jackson nodded in confirmation. “Back home I saw a man so nervous on his wedding day that when the preacher asked if he did, his eyes rolled in the back of his head and he dropped to a dead faint on the floor of the chapel.”
“What happened?”
“They didn’t get married that day. His bride burst into tears and wouldn’t talk to him for a month, and her parents stuck him with the bill for the nuptials.”
“You know how to make a man feel better,” James grumbled.
“So, that’s why my advice to you is ‘don’t forget to breathe’.”
“Do you think I’ll get to return this pearl of wisdom?”
“Ask me in six months time.”
Jackson nudged his friend as Reverend Kirk, resplendent in a crisp white surplice over his black clerical robes, approached briskly.
The Reverend nodded to his wife, who was also church organist, and took his place at the altar.
The church stood at the opening strains of the first hymn.
James' breath caught in his throat at the first sight of his bride. She was beautiful. Selina caught his eye and gave him a shy smile. The groom found himself grinning back. Jackson's estimation of his expression was “like an idiot”, he was informed later.
James remembered the first time he saw Selina all those months ago at the Chesterfield House royal ball. He recalled their banter as they were introduced, the feel of her in his arms as they danced, the passionate nature that exhibited itself at almost every opportunity they had to be alone.
And now she was to be his for life. Each morning he would awake with her beside him. Each night they would go to bed together. He would touch, taste, and make her a true part of him, and himself, a true part of her.
Now, as Selina moved closer towards him, it seemed the other guests in the church had disappeared. All he could see was his wife-to-be approaching and, within half an hour, they would have made their vows to each other before God and the congregation.
Selina was halfway down the aisle when Jackson nudged James discretely.
“You’ve forgotten to breathe.”
* * *
The day that had begun with light cloud fulfilled its promise of a perfect late August day. The sky cleared and sea breezes tempered the warmth of the late summer sun.
At Penventen Hall, guests from all strata of society strolled the gardens to the sounds of a string quartet while blue uniformed and bewigged footmen circled the crowd with trays of refreshments.
Not long after she and James returned to the Hall, a despatch rider arrived to hand James a packet. Letters from more well-wishers, she presumed.
James disappeared inside the house with the letters.
Selina’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling, and her was throat parched from welcoming guests and accepting best wishes from Padstow villagers by herself. She sent one of William and Sarah’s boys on an errand to get her some punch, but it was James who returned with it.
“Ah, I thought I was being abandoned on my own wedding day,” she teased. She took a grateful sip of the chilled beverage. “There are so many people here. I had no idea you were so well regarded.”
“Me? I thought these were all your friends.”
Selina smiled.
“I saw the post rider; if he delivers any more letters I can see the first month of being your wife doing nothing but writing letters of thanks,” she said.
“Well, perhaps during the day.” There was a twinkle of mischief in James' eyes. “I have very definite plans for the evening.”
His words, heavy with promise, thrilled her and coloured her cheeks unbidden, but not unnoticed.
“Oh yes, very definite plans,” he said and planted a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. The villagers roared their approval.
Selina blushed deeper.
“How soon before we can be alone?” she whispered as they strolled further along the grounds.
“Right now if you like.”
Selina raised a sceptical eyebrow.
“You shouldn’t tease with false promises. We’re the centre of attention. We'd be missed even before we reach the house. Besides, we have the Prime Minister of England and the Duke of York as guests.”
“And my mother complained it was a small wedding,” said James.
He cast his eye across the grounds. White marquees were decorated with garlands of pink silk roses. Studding the lawn in groups, white wicker chairs and lounges had been made more comfortable with peach cushions and rose pink bolsters monogrammed with either the Penventen coat of arms or the letters J and S intertwined.
“She will insist we sit through every moment of her reception,” he observed with a twing
e of bitterness in his voice.
He drew Selina behind a gardenia shrub, placing them slightly out of sight of the main festivities, and wrapped his arms around his wife.
“By my calculation,” he told her, “we should be able to take our leave in about eight and a half hours time, so I believe we both need something to sustain us until then.”
She met his kiss without shyness or hesitation. She savoured the touch of his lips and opened her own to encourage his tongue to plunder her mouth.
Chapter Twenty-Six
With a fanfare, the doors of the Great Hall at Penventen were opened for the first time in thirty years.
The last major event held in the hall was the ball in the honour of King George III’s ascension to the British throne. Although mostly unused, the Great Hall hadn’t suffered the neglect of other areas of the house, however. It had been generally maintained over the years and a conscientious clean had revived the elaborate if somewhat old-fashioned grandeur of the double storey room.
The Great Hall, an addition built during the reign of King Charles the First, was three times as long as it was wide and its opulence belonged to its age. Damask silk wall coverings, the colour of fine Bordeaux, provided the backdrop to large stylised burnished gold Arabesque flowers that rose to the ceiling over oak panelled chair rails.
Mirrors six feet high were encased in elaborately carved gilt frames and angled in such a way to catch the afternoon light from the floor to ceiling windows on the opposite wall, and then later to disperse light from elaborate silver candelabra that stood on solid oak console tables in front of them.
Ordinarily chairs would have lined these walls. Tonight they were placed the length of dining tables set with starched white cloth and covered with candelabra. Epergnes filled with fragrant damask roses and an impressive range of crockery were set in their place to indicate the start of an elaborate, multiple course feast.
The booming voice of the Master of Ceremonies announced the arrival of the bride and groom.
Side by side, James and Selina were introduced to Prince Frederick, the Duke of York, King George’s second son, and Prime Minister William Pitt before taking their place at the end of the reception line. In all 120 guests filled the room, greeting first royalty, the head of government, and then the bride and groom.
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