Wyndham Legacy

by Catherine Coulter

“No, not at all, Nettles.”

  Heartened, the butler added, “She is a very restrained lady, my lord, allowing no familiarities, as if anyone would ever attempt such a thing in any case. Now, my lord, would you like a glass of port, perhaps, in the library?”

  Marcus took his port and went instead to the master bedchamber at the end of the corridor on the second floor. It was a massive room, hung with dark draperies, spread with even darker carpets. The furnishings were very old, but they sparkled with wax. He wondered if his wife’s meddling hands had rubbed in the lemon wax.

  He said to Spears, who was gently folding his cravats and placing them in a drawer in the dresser, “I wonder at the timing of all this.”

  “Timing is an unpredictable thing, my lord, or so I’ve always believed.”

  “I wonder why she left for Chase Park with Mr. Wicks, of all people.”

  “Ah, my lord, I do have a letter, given to me by Mr. Nettles, who was given it himself by the Duchess to give to me and finally for me to present to you. You understand?”

  “Certainly, Spears. Where is this letter that couldn’t have been given directly to me but had to go from the Duchess to Nettles to you and then to me?”

  “It is here, my lord.”

  “A circuitous route always arouses suspicions,” Marcus said as he tore open the envelope. He read, cursed, then laughed. “Well, this is very interesting. It seems the American Wyndhams are at Chase Park, for Mr. Wicks, doing his duty, mind you, wrote them and told them of their perhaps good fortune come June sixteenth. They came to England and now they are at Chase Park, arriving evidently precisely on the sixteenth. The Duchess and Mr. Wicks have flown after them. Ah, yet again, she meddles.”

  “She is your wife, my lord. It is not meddling, it is the duty of a wife to see to her husband’s interests whilst he is unable to see to them himself.”

  Marcus gave his valet a grunt, then began to pull off his clothes. “I would like a bath, Spears.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  He had one leg out of his trousers when he said, “I wonder why they went to Chase Park. Surely Mr. Wicks didn’t tell them that was also part of their probable inheritance.”

  “It is a mystery, my lord.”

  “One would have expected them to stop here first in London and see Mr. Wicks. Then perhaps he would have directed them to the Essex House, in Clampton, a very nice property that I saw with Charlie and Mark some years ago. Unentailed, of course.”

  “Now all the property is yours, my lord, including Essex House.”

  “I know.”

  “Will you be remaining home this evening, my lord?”

  “If you must know,” Marcus said now, pulling on a dressing gown, “I am going to White’s. A number of gentlemen are dining together.”

  “I suggest, my lord, that you not imbibe overly. I further suggest, my lord, that we ourselves leave for Chase Park on the morrow.”

  “Your suggestions be damned, Spears. I have no intention of going to Chase Park. Mr. Wicks got himself into this mess, let him extricate himself. Doubtless the Duchess will be of invaluable assistance. Why else would she have accompanied him if she hadn’t intended to meddle? No, don’t answer that. In any case, I have to meet with Lord Dracornet at the War Ministry tomorrow.”

  “I will see to your bath, my lord.”

  “Good. Don’t try to change my mind, Spears. I won’t go to Chase Park despite the fact that the namby-waist, Trevor, just might be the future earl.” Marcus looked around the rapidly darkening bedchamber. “You know, perhaps I should inform Mr. Wicks not to send the American Wyndhams to the rightabout entirely. Perhaps I should tell him that dear Trevor just might be the earl someday. Perhaps I should tell him to encourage that mincing fop, Trevor, to get himself an heir just in case. Yes, I should make that communication to Mr. Wicks.”

  “The Duchess, my lord? Your wife?”

  “Oh, she is fully aware that any offspring she bears will be not of my seed and thus will not succeed to the title.”

  He listened to Spears suck in his breath. Ah, consternation from his unflappable valet. It felt good. He smiled. He was still smiling when the two footmen entered the bedchamber, carrying buckets of hot water for his bath.

  He was lathering his hair when he chanced to see Spears looking at him with the tight-lipped disapproval of a bishop at an orgy. It made him feel even better.

  He saw Spears open his mouth and quickly said in a voice as chill as Gunther’s ices, “No, Spears, I will not go to Chase Park. I don’t care what either Wicks or the Duchess do. I plan to enjoy myself immensely here in London. I plan to install a mistress over in Bruton Street or perhaps in Stretton Street, close enough to here so that I can stroll over at my leisure. Yes, that’s what I’ll do.”

  “My lord, it would seem that such activities would require more time than you currently have, what with your duties to Lord Dracornet. Surely you will be too busy with the upcoming discussions about the Congress in Vienna this fall.”

  “Oh no, not at all. I’m not a bloody diplomat, Spears, indeed, all the diplomats involved in this program will be intriguing until the world comes to an end. They will lie and they will do anything to gain what they want. No, it isn’t for me. Damn, if you’re going to stab someone, do it to the man’s face.

  “Lord Castlereagh did inquire as to my wishes about the Congress and I told him that I had other things to do. Actually, I came near to kissing his boots in my politeness, but I did indicate that I wouldn’t be able to attend, as much as I wanted to. As to Lord Dracornet and my duties here in London, I have asked for a temporary leave since I have to assume my new duties as the VIII earl of Chase. Not only just new, of course, but also now endowed with appropriate funds. I believe Lord Dracornet was so relieved that I am no longer destitute, no longer a peer embarrassment, that he was most sincere in his best wishes to me.”

  “I see, my lord. Your lordship has many other duties as well. Your estates are vast. Surely you recall in your ten months as a real earl how much time is required to see that everything runs smoothly.”

  “Oh yes, I remember, Spears. No, you can keep any further arguments to yourself. I’m not going to Chase Park. The last female in the world I wish to see is the damned Duchess.”

  “She is a countess, my lord.”

  “Your wit ripens, Spears. Go away and leave me alone. Forget Chase Park. That’s the last place I’ll go.”

  CHASE PARK

  The Duchess stared at Wilhelmina Wyndham. Surely she couldn’t have heard her aright. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

  “I said that the grouse hereabouts could be infected with vile parasites.”

  She hadn’t said that, of course, but the Duchess let it go. “I will ask Badger to carefully examine all grouse before they are allowed into the kitchen.”

  Wilhelmina Wyndham nodded. She turned then to gaze about the huge drawing room. “All this is just as my husband described it to me. He painted pictures for me—all in words, naturally—and I could see Chase Park in my mind. At last I am here. You wondered why we came here immediately and didn’t go to London first. I knew exactly where Chase Park was and I wanted to waste no time coming here.”

  She said gently, “But ma’am, even if Marcus and I hadn’t married, Chase Park would have remained the earl’s, for it is entailed.”

  “Yes, I know. You think Americans are fools, but we’re not. This was my husband’s home. Surely you don’t believe I wouldn’t want to visit here?”

  “Of course you would want to and you are welcome. Chase Park is very impressive and its history is quite remarkable, but surely you will want to visit London before you return to America?”

  “You are nothing but a slut. I won’t heed you.”

  The Duchess blinked hard. “I beg your pardon, ma’am?”

  “I said that you’re in a rut and if I must plead to stay here, why then, so I shall. I won’t leave you, Josephina, you would be ever so lonely. You don’t mean to say that we ar
e not welcome here?”

  “Naturally you are welcome, ma’am, I just told you you were, but Chase Park is not your home. As Mr. Wicks told you last evening, there is no inheritance now that his lordship and I have wed.”

  “I think you’re a conniving bitch.”

  The Duchess heard her well enough this time, but she was so utterly taken aback that she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She just looked at her, waiting to hear what she would say now, but Wilhelmina merely shrugged and walked toward the grand double doors. “Yes,” she said now, “it must be nice to be very rich.”

  “Indeed.”

  Wilhelmina smiled and said gaily, “What do you think of my boys?”

  Boys? Trevor was all of twenty-four, Marcus’s age, and James was twenty. “They are very charming, ma’am. Ursula is also very nice.”

  “Ursula is a girl and thus of no worth, of no more worth than you are, damn you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said that Ursula is a girl of excellent birth, certainly of as good a birth as you are, you sweet lamb, you. I believe she will make a brilliant marriage, don’t you think?”

  She had a pounding headache. She merely nodded, thankful that her aunt Wilhelmina was willingly taking herself off. She quickly went out the eastern side door and hoped to lose herself in the Chase gardens, beautiful now in midsummer, all the roses blooming wildly, hyacinth with their bell-shaped flowers scenting the air, mixing with the perfume of the roses and the daisies and the huge-blossomed hydrangeas. Lilac trees with their lavender clusters were so sweet now that they clogged the senses. She walked to an ancient oak tree, so twisted and bent that it could be a meeting place for witches on All Hallows’ Eve. She seated herself on the wooden bench beneath its lush green canopy of branches, leaned back against the trunk of the tree, and closed her eyes. It seemed as if she’d endured Aunt Wilhelmina for more than a decade and not just a day. Well, actually, a morning and an evening. Not even a full day.

  Mr. Wicks was in a state of retreat, for Aunt Wilhelmina had all but attacked him the previous night.

  When they’d arrived the previous afternoon, Aunt Wilhelmina had greeted her and Mr. Wicks as her guests. It was the strangest feeling to see Aunt Gweneth standing back, clearly deferring to the woman with the aging but still beautiful face with her head of hair so blond it was nearly white in the sunlight. Aunt Wilhelmina was unexpected, but then again, so was Trevor, the effete sod, the damnable pederast, the lisping dandy, according to Marcus. She smiled remembering Marcus’s contempt. Trevor! By God, a pederast, a mincing fop!

  She supposed she’d expected to see a pretty young man with his mother’s fair complexion and blond hair. She supposed she had even expected him to lisp and wear his cravat so high it touched his ears. Well, Marcus would be in for a surprise. No, there would be no surprise, for Marcus wouldn’t come to Chase Park, not as long as she was here.

  She wondered if he had returned to London.

  The Twins and Ursula found her ten minutes later. At least her headache was reduced to a dull throbbing.

  Antonia announced, “I have decided to marry Trevor, Duchess. He is much to my liking.”

  Ursula, a small fourteen-year-old girl with her mother’s fair coloring, a sweet girl with pretty features that surely would mold into beauty in four or five years, said, “Trevor is unhappy. He won’t want to marry you yet, Antonia. Besides, you’re only fifteen. At least for three more months. Trevor is quite old now.”

  “Old! Trevor is quite a young man!” Antonia was flushed with the heat and with the audacity of such a statement about her newly appointed idol.

  Ever practical, Fanny asked, “Why is he unhappy?” She took a big bite of the apple she held in her hand, the loud munching the only sound for at least a minute. At least it wasn’t a sweetmeat, the Duchess thought. It seemed to her that Fanny’s face had thinned out over the past months. She and Antonia were growing up. She felt ancient at the moment.

  “His wife died,” Ursula said.

  Her mouth fell open in surprise. “He was married, Ursula?”

  “Yes, Duchess. Her name was Helen and she was very nice, quite the prettiest girl in Baltimore, only she was sickly, Trevor said. She died in childbed, after a bad fall from her mare, the babe passing away with her. It happened only four months ago. They were only married for a year and a half. Trevor went away to New York, I think. He came back to escort us here to England because Mother wrote him a letter and begged him. James didn’t like it because he wanted to take Father’s place and see to our welfare. He didn’t speak to Trevor for at least a week. I don’t think Trevor even noticed. He was with us in body, but he was still away, if you know what I mean.”

  “Yes,” the Duchess said. “I know exactly what you mean, Ursula.” Goodness, she thought, overwhelmed, you simply never knew anyone, their secrets, what they’d endured, what they were really like.

  “By the time I am eighteen,” Antonia said with all the confidence of a girl who was rich, had an immense dowry, and who had been deferred to all her life, “Trevor will be over his unhappiness. Then he will marry me and I won’t die in childbirth because I ride a horse quite nicely and I’m healthy as a stoat. Aunt Gweneth says so.”

  Fanny took the last bite from her apple and flung it into the pond that lay just beyond the huge old oak tree, sending several ducks flapping away, quacking loudly in surprise. “Perhaps I will take James. I just wish he were a bit older. Boys are so callow. They need to ripen, like wine, at least that’s what Papa used to say. Remember, Antonia? Papa used to tease Charlie and Mark whenever they remarked upon a pretty girl. He told them they were still vinegar, that it would take some years to make them vintage port.”

  Ursula laughed. Antonia looked stricken. The Duchess said easily, “I can see him teasing the boys, Fanny. It’s good to remember your brothers with pleasure and laughter.”

  Ursula said, “That’s why the earl is an upstart, isn’t it? Since my cousins died—”

  The Duchess said calmly, “Marcus is your cousin too. He is the earl of Chase. Your father and his father were brothers. You will give him your respect, Ursula, and you will look to him as the head of the Wyndham family, which he is.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “I suppose you can begin with that respect business now. It is Ursula, isn’t it?”

  The Duchess didn’t move. Then, very slowly, she turned to see Marcus leaning at his ease against the oak tree. How long had he been standing there, listening and watching? She stared at him silently.

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “You may call me Marcus, since we’re cousins.”

  “Yes, Marcus.”

  “No fond hello for your husband?” He strode to her, stared down at her bent head a moment, then lifted her limp hand and kissed her fingers.

  13

  MARCUS FROWNED AT the sound of that damned valet of his humming. Then Spears broke into song, his deep rich baritone echoing in the huge bedchamber as he neatly folded Marcus’s socks.

  “She’s more rude than the Regent,

  She’s more boring than a stoat.

  She’s as lewd as her brother,

  She’s as crude as a goat.

  “Ah, yes, crudeness, rudeness, and lewdness,

  Three great qualities.

  The Grand Duchess Catherine—

  She royally claims all three.”

  He couldn’t help it, he smiled now. He’d heard how Czar Alexander had choked, spitting up his wine on his royal white gold-buttoned tunic when he chanced to hear some citizens beneath the bow street window of White’s, singing at the top of their lungs, the words stark and clear as they’d strolled up St. James Street. He’d roared with rage, claimed he would slay the bastards, but was restrained by the unflappable Henry, the majordomo of White’s for longer than Marcus could remember, and by the Duke of Wellington himself.

  “Ah, my lord, you have seen the Duchess?”

  “Yes, but just for a moment. She was in the garden
with the bevy of young girls.”

  “Is she well?”

  “Why shouldn’t she be? Wait a minute, Spears, have you learned something I should know through that damned spy network of yours?”

  “No, my lord, it is just that when I last saw her, she wasn’t happy. You hadn’t been even passingly civil to her.”

  “She didn’t deserve civility, passing or otherwise. As for you, you traitorous sod, you should have been fired.”

  “I appreciate your lordship’s restraint.” As he spoke, Spears gently laid six freshly ironed cravats flat in a drawer.

  “Are you mocking me, Spears?”

  Spears straightened. “I, my lord? Mock you? Certainly not, my lord. The very thought deeply offends.”

  Marcus grunted, saying, “When I saw her, I didn’t at first gain her attention. You see, she was exhorting Ursula to give me full respect for I was the head of the Wyndham family.”

  “Since you are the head of the family, it is most appropriate for her to point that out, my lord.”

  “I suppose so, but why did she say it?”

  Spears stilled his task of straightening the brush, comb, and nail file on top of Marcus’s dressertop for a moment, then said gently, “Why would she not say it, my lord?”

  “Oh shut up, Spears. You’re not a bloody vicar. It’s none of your damned affair. It was never any of your damned affair until you and Badger were impertinent to stick in your noses. I should have you transported to Botany Bay.”

  “Ah yes, my lord. A nasty place, I’ve heard. Now about the garden, my lord, and what the Duchess said?”

  “Oh very well. I said something then—made my presence known—and she turned into stone—nothing new in that. Now, I’m going riding. I hear that bloody effete sod, Trevor, is out marching one of my horses over my acres. Doubtless he’s marking off boundaries to see how rich he will be.”

  “But you said he would be rich, my lord. Either he or his progeny.”

  “Go to hell, Spears. This is different. This is now, and I won’t have the bugger treating Chase Park as if he’s the earl. I will put a stop to his insolence. I wonder if the peacock uses a sidesaddle.”