by Sahara Kelly
He stared. He shouldn’t have been surprised, but he was nevertheless. “Here.” He handed the glass to Cressida. “Tell me what you see?”
She leaned in and moved a little, catching as much light as she could. “Uh…there are feathers, and…oh I see antlers. Then that could be a…yes…wait…it is. A fish. Or a thing with a fish tail. I can’t make out the head.”
“Hecate?” Richard nodded at his sister. “Care to take a look?”
She joined them at the desk, Dal bending close over her shoulder to share her view. “Yes, I see what Cressida saw. The feathers might be a wing…it is indeed hard to tell. The engraving has worn where the fingers would touch it.” She moved the ring slightly. “You know, that might be a mermaid? The thing with the fish tail?”
Dal chimed in. “I agree, Miss Hecate. If you look here…” he picked up a quill and used it to point to a particular spot, “you will see the shape of her head. And perhaps a swirl of hair…”
Richard sat back. “That’s what I saw too.” He stood, pushing his chair away from the desk. “Would you all come with me?”
He walked out into the hallway, his heart thudding at the implication of what he’d just seen. “Look up? At the ceiling?”
It was heavily carved, but now—since its cleaning—the relief stood out and the delicate traceries could be enjoyed for the craftsmanship they revealed.
“Good God,” said Cressida. “There. Right above the fireplace.”
And there it was, carved into the ceiling of the Branscombe Magna front hall. A full crest, complete with feathers, a mermaid, a stag’s head including antlers, and a ribbon twining around all. Beneath it was the word “Branscombe”.
“I never knew we had a family crest,” said his wife in astonishment.
“More to the point, what is it doing on that old ring?” Richard looked at her. “Any ideas?”
“Well, one would assume the ring belonged to a Branscombe…there is the letter B. RB, wasn’t it?”
He nodded. “Yes, and that’s an excellent reference point. I hate to say it, but we may need to clean the library next.”
“Oh dear.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s definitely going to contain more than its fair share of rodents.”
“It’s going to be our best resource,” said Richard. “That’s assuming the Branscombes kept good records.”
“I would say that is a given,” Hecate was staring upward. “Any house that has its crest carved into such a beautiful ceiling…they keep accurate and extensive records. They are proud of the name, and the heritage.” She looked down at Cressida. “Do you know how hold Branscombe Magna is?”
Cressida grimaced. “I’m not sure, I’m afraid. I do recall stories about how this land was supposed to be a monastery, but King Henry seized it in the middle of the 1500s and gave it to a noble instead.”
Richard nodded. “That would fit into the time of the dissolution of the monasteries.”
“Richard?” His sister looked at him. “How did you know that?”
He grinned. “You weren’t the only one hiding in the Ridlington library. I used to sneak down at night and read whatever I wanted. Simon might pop in now and again, and Letitia would spend the mornings there, but mostly I was alone. I knew Kitty liked one chair that caught the afternoon sun. There were so many places to tuck oneself away—it was huge. Still is. And I suppose some of what I read stayed with me.”
“I’m…overwhelmed.” Hecate grinned. “I knew you weren’t illiterate, but I wasn’t expecting you to continually surprise me.”
He leaned over and tapped her nose. “Never underestimate your brothers, imp.”
She laughed. “I won’t do that again.”
“Right then,” said Cressida, squaring her shoulders. “The library shall be next on the room list. I might just spend this afternoon banging broomsticks on the floor and driving out the mice.”
“Like beaters driving pheasants to a shoot,” chuckled Richard. “Should we draft as many cats as we can find?” He glanced at Hecate. “What about the little black nit? Would he like a shot, do you think?”
To his surprise, a small face peered out of Hecate’s shawl from where it was folded over her shoulders. Large gold eyes blinked sleepily at Richard and a tiny mouth opened in a wide yawn, revealing sharp teeth. The kitten surveyed the crowd, found it lacking in interest, and tucked its head back beneath the soft wool.
“Well, that answers that,” giggled Cressida. “I think you’ve just been given the cut direct. By a kitten.”
Richard sighed. “It was bound to happen one day.”
*~~*~~*
Cressida had every good intention of beginning on the library that very afternoon, but not long after they’d finished lunch, there was a flurry at the front door, and Simon arrived again, this time with his wife in tow.
Tabitha Ridlington was a delight. She was bright, funny and clearly devoted to her husband, missing no chance of touching him, either with a casual hand or with her shoulder. To see two such happy people, and realize the connection between them was so strong and loving—well, it was somewhat of a surprise.
She couldn’t remember seeing a couple as well-matched, and wondered at it.
She got a rapid but genuinely affectionate hug, and then the two of them tripped over each other to announce the news.
“It happened, Richard. Brussels. Wellington…” Simon’s face was flushed as he tried to get it all out.
“Huge, a massive battle they say. In a place called Waterloo…” Tabby added her contribution.
“Wait,” said Richard. “One at a time.” He grabbed them both and dragged them into the parlor.
Cressida and the others ran after him, eager to hear all the details, and called to Worsnop for tea as she passed the door to the kitchens.
“Word is,” said Simon, catching his breath, “that the Duke met Napoleon’s forces on the eighteenth…a field near the village of Waterloo. General Blücher showed up too, in spite of serious injuries. We hear it was touch and go there for a bit…Ney almost won a battle at Quatre-Bras, but Blucher and his Prussians managed to keep in touch with Wellington and together they pulled it off. It was a complete rout. I don’t know any details yet…I don’t think anyone does. But Bathurst was notified of the victory when he was at dinner a couple of days ago…that would have been…”
“The twenty-second, dear,” finished Tabby. “Wellington’s messenger brought two eagles and laid them at the Regent’s feet, apparently. The quote we heard was ‘Victory, sir. Victory’.
“How dramatic,” Cressida clasped her hands together. “A wonderful result for England.”
Simon looked at Richard. “There are going to be losses. Bad losses.”
Richard nodded, swallowing down a lump of anxiety. He knew too many of those who had participated in this violent event.
“Ma’am?” A shaky voice sounded from the door. It was Worsnop with the tea tray.
Cressida sprang to her feet. “Worsnop…come in. You heard? A great battle and a great victory for England.”
“I ‘eard, Ma’am.” He set the tray down and turned a worried face to the gentlemen. “Yer gots any other news, sirs? My missus an’ me got two lads o’er there…”
“I know, Worsnop,” said Richard. “It will be a hard wait for you and Mrs. Parsnip, I know. Lists won’t be out for some time…”
Tabby walked to the older man and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Worsnop, I will do everything in my power to see that lists get to at least Ilfracombe at the earliest possible moment.” She glanced over her shoulder at Simon. “There are so many families in your position. We owe you, and them, as much information as we can as soon as we can.”
Cressida joined her. “We’ll set up a message relay, Worsnop, so you and Mrs. Parsnip will not have to worry for too long. It’ll be a help to everyone in the area who has loved ones in the military.”
Worsnop couldn’t speak for a moment, and Cressida found her tears stinging the backs of her eyes as Hecate c
ame to join them and they all touched him in a mutual expression of sympathy.
“Now then,” Worsnop coughed. “That’ll do, ladies. I thanks yer fer yer ‘elp, but standin’ round weepin’ an’ wailin’ ain’t gonna get t’dinner cooked.”
“I can’t argue with that,” agreed Richard. “So let’s go on as we were, happy that our brave Duke has finally dealt with that villain Bonaparte. And let’s look forward to a really fine welcome home to our lads.”
To her surprise, Cressida found herself joining in a small but enthusiastic cheer at her husband’s words.
Then before the echoes had died down, Simon and Tabby declared that they had to leave. With this news, Simon would be needed in his parish, and Tabby would probably have to get involved with whatever celebrations might be appropriate.
Hecate and Dal vanished to pack, promising to be no more than half an hour.
Cressida informed Simon that he’d have an extra travelling companion, but that they wouldn’t have to worry about mice in the carriage.
Simon rolled his eyes. “She found a kitten?”
“How did you know?”
“It’s Hecate. She has this uncanny attraction for lost creatures. I recall a fox, a badger and more than a few birds…”
“Don’t forget that snake, Simon,” added Richard. “Scared the daylights out of me when she started wearing it like a damned necklace.”
“I’d forgotten that.”
“Ugh.” Tabby shivered.
All too soon the baggage was packed, the carriage loaded, and the small group gathered in front of the weathered doors to Branscombe Magna.
“I wish I could stay,” said Hecate as she hugged Cressida. “But you must know that you have family now. We will be there when you need us, without any hesitation. Will you remember that?” Without waiting for an answer, she moved to hug Richard. “I would love to have learned more about your ghost and that ring…”
“What ghost?” frowned Simon. “Nobody mentioned a ghost…”
“I’ll tell you all about her on the way home,” comforted Hecate, letting Dal help her up the little steps.
“I know I don’t need to say this, but thank you, Dal.” Richard spoke quietly. “Take care of her for us?”
“I will, Mr. Richard. Always.” Dal’s bow was quietly elegant.
“Goodbye, Richard.” Tabby moved from Cressida to her brother in law, enveloping him in a warm hug. “I like your wife. She’s a good match. Make her happy.”
That was whispered quietly into Richard’s ear. The one on the other side from his wife.
He moved away and grinned. “I’ll do my best.”
“Stay safe, brother.”
Simon also hugged Richard. It was a moment that neither had expected, but it seemed natural. The Ridlington family was changing, realized Richard. Freed from their father’s tyranny, they were growing into the people they were supposed to be, and out of the shadows cast on them during their childhood.
“You too,” answered Richard, grinning at Simon. “Take care of that lovely wife of yours, and please tell everyone I miss them and I promise to write soon. Maybe even visit if we ever get this place put to rights.”
Simon nodded and joined the others in the carriage, closing the door behind him.
“Oh, Richard…I will send messages about the lists. Do set up a couple of runners…local lads would be best…just so that word can spread quickly?” Tabby leaned out the window as the carriage began to move away.
“I promise,” he nodded.
“Richard will handle it, darling.” Simon pulled her back in with a wry grin at his brother. “She’s a devil for the details, you know…” he called, as the driver urged the horses forward.
“Good bye…”
Waves were exchanged, and Cressida found herself sad as the sound of the wheels rattling over the drive faded, leaving only birdsong in the air.
“I shall miss their company,” she said, still watching as they made their way over the hills and eventually out of sight. “It was lovely having guests. I enjoyed them so much.”
“I agree,” said Richard. “It was good to see them again.”
She was silent for long moments, battling unexpected tears. Then she looked at him. “Will you really take me to meet your family someday, Richard?”
He frowned a little. “Of course I will. Why do you ask?”
She turned away. “Because I wasn’t sure if you’d want to.”
He put out his arms and grasped her shoulders, turning her to face him. “Cressy, there is no reason on the face of the earth that would prevent me from taking you to Ridlington and introducing you to my family as my wife. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Her gaze met his, and she fought to keep the sadness locked away. She wasn’t really his wife in any way except legally. And every day they spent together she became more and more aware of that fact.
“I…” she hesitated, and her gaze fell to his boots.
“Cressy.” Richard drew her close. “Look at me.”
Slowly she raised her head and looked at him. His eyes, whisky brown and warm, drifted over her face, while her gaze fell to his lips. Firm and masculine, they could curve in amusement or firm in determination. He was so handsome, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well. The revelation took her breath away.
“Cressy,” he whispered. “Cressy…”
She was in his arms before she knew it, and his lips were on hers an instant later, warmer and softer than she’d remembered. He held her close, but not roughly, one hand on her back and the other under her chin, lifting her into his embrace.
His mouth moved a little, experimenting, teasing, brushing her sensitive flesh, and finally parting to allow his tongue to slide sensuously along her lower lip, nudging it, urging it to move and let him inside.
And when she obeyed his subtle command—oh what sweet heaven it was.
Chapter Thirteen
Richard took Zizi for a walk.
That, in and of itself, was indicative of his confused state of mind, since usually he and the dog avoided each other by mutual agreement except for first thing in the morning.
But ever since he’d kissed his wife on the front doorstep of Branscombe Magna, something had changed, and he needed to spend a bit of time on his own to sort it all out. Why Zizi should have decided to accompany him, he had no idea, but as soon as he’d approached the door, she’d been at his heels with a determined look in her eye.
“Come on then. But no chasing rabbits,” he warned.
Thus the late morning sun found them strolling through the lanes that led from the house toward the ocean.
Reaching the head, Richard slowed and finally sank down onto a convenient rock. The grass was well worn, and he could tell that others had done the same thing.
Zizi snuffled around, checking for anything that smelled interesting, content to keep herself busy with whatever canines did when out for a walk in the sunshine.
Richard watched her idly, envying the simplicity of her existence. His had just become damn complicated.
When Cressy had parted her lips and let his tongue explore, his world shifted, rocked to its very core. Her taste—uniquely sweet with a touch of heated woman—had exploded inside him, sending every nerve ending into a paroxysm of want.
This wasn’t anything like the brief moments at their wedding on the Jolly Fellow. That had been a simple kiss, pleasant, but not earth-shattering like this one had been.
He wanted her. All the way down to the marrow in his bones. Desire had risen, unbidden, flooding him with the need to claim this woman in the most basic of ways. Where had this desire been when they cuddled at night?
Why was he aroused now to a level that astonished him? Why was his cock still rigid, and damned uncomfortable, after he was well away from her? Just the thought of her naked, writhing beneath him, brought on a bout of severe lust.
She was his wife, and had been for some time. Now, all of a sudden, as a result of
the sadness in a pair of green eyes and the taste of her lips…now she’d become something else again.
He just wasn’t sure what.
Staring out over the grey-blue waves, Richard asked himself an important question. Why had he married so easily? Why had he immediately agreed to Perrenporth’s suggestion? Should he not have explored other avenues before committing himself to a lifetime with a woman he’d never met?
They were difficult questions, and it took a while for him to dig an answer or two from the tangle of his thoughts.
His youth had been spent quietly; Ridlington Chase under the rule of Baron Jack Ridlington had not been a place of joy and laughter. For the most part all of the Ridlington children had found their own ways of compensating…his had been to read, and to run away to the farms and tenants whenever he could.
His twin read as well, but she would then imagine all kinds of adventures in which she was the beautiful heroine.
For him, it was slipping out of the darkness and into the warmth of what a real family should be. From the local folk he learned that fathers talked to their sons about their lives, and mothers protected their children as best they could.
He shared meals where everyone seemed proud to share their daily lives, and where encouragement, praise and enthusiasm were routine. All things that were completely absent from his own home. He’d found a liking for games of chance, and won more than a few piles of seashells while learning the rules of the games from local fishermen.
And then Aunt Venetia had summoned Kitty and himself to London. From that point on his life had opened to include more pleasant things; social events, real games for real money, and eventually a position with Perrenporth as an aide.
He knew himself to be intelligent, had learned to pretend to confidence even if he had none, and was not lacking when it came to satisfying a woman. He still felt a deep sense of gratitude to a lady he’d met in his late teens.
She’d been visiting another residence near Ridlington, and they’d encountered each other in the woods nearby. She’d been lonely and sad—he’d been young, eager and swept away by her beauty.
