As a new year dawned and winter lashed the North Atlantic coast, Sir Robert continued to honor his love for Jocelyn by following her example and forging stronger personal ties with the people he ruled.
Rather than secluding himself in Government House, he traveled among the colonists and invited them to call upon him. He listened to their problems, their hopes for the future and their suggestions of what he could do to help them. Never had he felt a stronger conviction that he was doing his duty to the fullest.
And yet, when he retired to bed at the end of a busy day, especially a day in which Lily Duckworth had received a letter from England, his arms fairly ached with emptiness.
Then one morning, a few months later, when an unexpected south wind had blown up the coast from the Caribbean to deliver a tantalizing promise of spring, Duckworth fairly burst into Sir Robert’s study.
“There is a letter for you, sir!” He handed it over with a flourish. “From England!”
Sir Robert struggled to suppress a grin. Ever since Duckworth had discovered he would soon be a father, his reactions to commonplace events had become a little extreme on occasion. “A week seldom goes by that I do not receive mail from England.”
“This one’s different, sir. Look at the seal. It’s the same one I have seen on my wife’s letters from Mrs. Finch!”
A ripple of heat coursed through Sir Robert.
“When I spied it among the post,” Duckworth continued, “I thought it must be for Lily. Then I saw it was addressed to you, sir.”
Sir Robert turned the letter over to confirm that it was meant for him.
“I’ll just leave then, sir.” Duckworth backed toward the door, grinning like a proper village idiot. “So you can read your letter in private.”
Only after his aide had been gone for some minutes did Sir Robert look up from the folded packet of paper he had been turning over and over in his hands. It took him several minutes more to muster the courage to open it.
The salutation of the letter sank his hopes. The message was not from Jocelyn at all.
Dear Sir, it began after a formal address of his title and office, I have never had the honor of your acquaintance but I have heard many reports in your favor. I hope you will not object to my communicating with you in this way.
Sir Robert noted the closing salutation. Why on earth should the Marquess of Breckland be writing to him? It did not take long to satisfy his curiosity on that point.
As he read, his heart seemed to swell in his chest until every beat sent a faint pang through him. By the time he reached the last few words, he could scarcely make them out through the film of tears over his eyes.
“Look, Auntie!” called Nicholas Lord Thetford as he launched his toy ship across a small pond in the shadow of Ladywood. “The bride ship is sailing into Halifax Harbor.”
A gentle spring breeze caught the small sails of the craft and pushed it toward the opposite shore. There Jocelyn waited, holding tightly to the hand of Lord Thetford’s three-year-old brother, the Honorable Arthur DeLacey, who could not be relied upon to refrain from jumping into the pond. Young Arthur clutched a painted tin soldier in his other hand.
Bright sunshine glinted on the ripples the toy ship made as it glided through the water. It warmed the golden daffodils clustered around the edge of the pond and burnished the children’s ginger curls. After the frosty twilight of winter, Jocelyn felt her heart quickening with the promise of spring.
“I expect the real bride ship will soon be arriving in Halifax.” She affected a cheerful tone.
Lord Thetford thrust out his lower lip in his best five-year-old pout. “I wish you could have taken me with you when you went to London to see the bride ship sail.”
“Me, too!” cried little Arthur.
Since returning to Breckland, Jocelyn had discovered those were his favorite words.
“Next year, perhaps,” she said, to placate them. “This year I needed you both to keep Grandpapa company while I was gone.”
She had enjoyed her brief visit to the city to help Mrs. Beamish prepare for the expedition. Warning the new chaperones about what they could expect when they reached Halifax. Entrusting them with gifts and messages for many of her friends. Letting the girls’ contagious excitement and anticipation buoy her spirits.
But she had not been prepared for the wrench she felt when the ship weighed anchor and headed down the Thames without her. She’d been sorely tempted to stow away and return to the colonial town where she had left her heart.
For the sake of her nephews, she’d resisted that temptation. They had been abandoned too often in their short lives. These past months she had discovered that duty could be more than the onerous bondage she once believed. It could also be a tangible expression of love.
Lord Thetford picked up a stick he had found at the edge of Ladywood and marched around the pond to where his aunt and brother stood.
“Careful now,” Jocelyn warned when he leaned over and used the stick to draw his boat toward shore. “I don’t fancy fishing you out if you tumble into that cold water.”
The boy ignored her words with the invincible confidence of youth, but managed to moor his boat without calamity.
“There.” He checked over his shoulder. “The bride ship is docked. Come, Arthur, bring the governor down to meet it.”
Arthur proudly held up his tin soldier. “That’s him!”
Every night at bedtime the boys always clamored for stories of Jocelyn’s adventures in Nova Scotia. Her account of the bride ship’s arrival in Halifax was one of their favorites, though she had altered her version of events to be fit for young ears.
“Is it, indeed?” She laughed. “It certainly has Governor Kerr’s fine military bearing, though he has far more medals.”
“Medals?” Lord Thetford’s small eyes widened. “What for?”
“Did I not tell you? Before he became governor, Sir Robert Kerr was a general in the Duke of Wellington’s army.” Somehow, talking about her lost love to the boys brought him nearer for a moment.
“I should like to meet him,” her elder nephew announced.
“Me, too!” declared his younger brother.
“Someday, perhaps,” Jocelyn promised them, though she knew it was not likely.
Would there be a letter from Nova Scotia today? Jocelyn hoped so. After not receiving any for over a week, she had reread Sally Carmont’s last breezy missive until it was practically in tatters. One passage in particular…
He works as hard as ever, Sally had written of the governor, but in every other respect he is altered almost beyond recognition. He is so much warmer and more approachable. The interest he takes in the welfare of all your “brides” is touching—quite paternal, I declare.
In many ways Jocelyn was more content with her life than she had ever been. But those eagerly anticipated letters from Nova Scotia still made her long for Robert.
Warily she let go of young Arthur’s hand. “Very well, you may take His Excellency down to meet the bride ship, but do be careful not to fall into Halifax Harbor.”
The little fellow seemed to understand that he was being granted a rare opportunity to prove himself. He approached his brother with cautious steps, holding the toy governor of Nova Scotia tight in his fist.
“Well done, Arthur.” Lord Thetford held out one hand to take the tin soldier. With the other, he grasped a length of thick string attached to the prow of his little boat. “Here. You may hold this while the governor greets Aunt Jocelyn and her young ladies.”
The honor of mooring the ship persuaded Arthur to hand over the governor.
Thetford marched the little tin figure down a gentle slope to the lip of the pond. Then he cleared his throat in a most amusing imitation of his grandfather. “The governor’s come to see this ship that has attracted so much attention. He says—”
A familiar voice took over from the boy. “Welcome to Nova Scotia, Mrs. Finch. It is an honor to have you and your young ladies grace our shor
es.”
Dear heaven, was she dreaming? Slowly Jocelyn looked up, half-afraid her ears might be playing tricks on her. But if they were, her eyes had joined them in the ruse. There stood Sir Robert Kerr, his bearing relaxed a little from former days, but otherwise exactly as she remembered him.
She raised her hand to her lips to stifle a sob.
“No, no!” Thetford scrambled up from his crouch. “That isn’t what he said at all.”
“Perhaps not,” replied Sir Robert in a tone as soft, warm and playful as the spring breeze. “But it is what he ought to have said. What he often wishes he’d said.”
“How do you know?” demanded the boy.
“How?” echoed his brother.
“I hear you are clever lads.” With unhurried steps, Sir Robert circled the pond toward them. “If you are half as clever as your Aunt Jocelyn, I think you can guess the answer to that.”
Little Arthur’s eyes and mouth rounded into perfect circles. He raised a plump forefinger and pointed toward the stranger. “It’s him!”
“The governor, you mean?” Thetford sounded doubtful as he glanced toward his aunt. “Is he, Auntie Jocelyn?”
“It looks very like him.” She spoke in a voice thick with swallowed tears, while others trickled down her cheeks unhindered. “But I cannot think what he is doing here. How will Nova Scotia manage without him?”
“Just the way it did when he was touring the colony last summer.” He came to a stop a few paces away from her. “Though he likes to imagine himself indispensable, no doubt the colony runs itself quite smoothly in his absence. More so, perhaps. What cannot be accomplished by the assembly and council, with the able assistance of Mr. Duckworth and Colonel Carmont probably should not be attempted.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jocelyn spied the two little boys moving away from the edge of the pond for a closer look at their visitor.
“Were you summoned back to London?” A fearful worry gripped her. “To defend yourself against those vulgar lies? I thought that was all settled in your favor. Father promised—”
She caught herself before she said any more, but it did not matter, for Sir Robert finished her sentence. “—that he would exert his influence on my behalf in exchange for—”
Jocelyn begged his silence with a finger raised to her lips and a pointed glance at the children. She did not want her small darlings to suspect that anything but her affection for them had brought her back to Breckland.
Sir Robert appeared to understand. “—in exchange for your assistance in certain domestic matters?”
“Who told you?”
He shook his head. “That matters less than why you did not tell me.”
“I was afraid you might do something foolish from motives of guilt or obligation rather than—”
The voice of the children’s nurse interrupted her. “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but his lordship sent me to fetch the boys.”
“I want to stay here.” Thetford stamped his small foot.
“Me, too.” Arthur followed his brother’s example.
“We want to talk to the governor,” said Thetford, perhaps thinking his demand would carry more weight if he included his brother. “I’m sure he has even better stories to tell about Nova Scotia than you, Auntie Jocelyn.”
“And battles!” added Arthur with rather bloodthirsty relish for an innocent child.
Sir Robert dropped to his haunches before the boys, who had taken a position between him and their aunt. “A good officer must do his duty and follow the orders of his superiors, you know.”
“Of course.” Thetford gave a vigorous nod, which his brother repeated. They did not appear to guess where the governor’s words might be leading.
“As head of the family, your grandfather is your superior. If he has sent for you, that is an order you must obey.” Then, as if to demonstrate he understood there was more to raising children than orders and duty, he added, “If you look sharp and step lively, I promise I shall tell you all the stories you wish when I return to the house.”
“How soon will that be?” asked Thetford.
Sir Robert rose to his feet. His gaze sought Jocelyn’s. “That depends upon your aunt and whether she gives me the answers I require to several questions.”
The nurse swooped down just then to catch both boys by their small hands. “Come along, young masters, and let the gentleman be.”
As Thetford allowed himself to be led away, he turned back and called, “Tell the governor what he wants to know straight away, Auntie!”
Though she was not certain she could bear to do what the child asked, Jocelyn nodded.
“And don’t forget to bring the bride ship when you come!”
Lord Thetford received no reply.
Once the children and their nurse were out of earshot, Sir Robert inhaled a deep breath. “Now where were we?”
Jocelyn swallowed an enormous lump in her throat. Seeing him again so unexpectedly had shattered the fragile illusion of happiness she had worked so hard to construct.
“I was trying explain why I did not tell you my full reason for returning to England.” Then, in a flash of the defiant spirit she had shown a year ago on Power’s Wharf, she added, “I am not convinced I owe you an explanation.”
“Perhaps you do not.” One corner of Sir Robert’s mouth arched upward. His eyes, blue as the vast Norfolk sky overhead, glowed with the hopeful warmth of spring sunshine. “But I am asking just the same. You started to say you feared I might do something foolish from motives of guilt or obligation rather than something else. Might that something else be…love?”
“It might.”
“The kind of love that cares nothing for propriety or duty or anything but the object of its attachment? The kind of love that will sacrifice one’s next dearest aim or purpose for the welfare of one’s beloved?”
Jocelyn struggled to keep her voice from breaking. “Are you saying that is what you feel for me, Robert?”
“I am saying that is what has brought me here.” He closed the distance between them and took her in his arms. “I hope and believe if you search your heart you will find it is what you feel for me, as well.”
“I cannot deny it.” She tilted her head to hold his gaze and to accept his kiss.
When it came, it tasted just as sweet in the middle of a Norfolk heath in broad daylight as it had in the late summer darkness by the Prince’s music pavilion.
At last Robert drew back just far enough to exchange a fond but wary look. “Twice I have asked for your hand and twice you have refused me. Now I must ask again and hope the third time will prove a charm. In many ways my life has never been more satisfactory than in these past months. Yet never have I been so conscious of an emptiness only you can fill. Whatever it takes for me to secure you, I will do it.”
Would he truly refuse a call to arms if she bade him?
“But your duty…”
“I have a duty to you.” He raised his hand and gently tapped his forefinger against the tip of her nose. “A duty to us and to our happiness—that is quite as important as any other.”
But without his devotion to a higher duty, he would no longer be the man she had come to admire…desire…and adore.
Mistaking her hesitation for reluctance, he added, “If you will give your promise, I will wait as long as it takes for you to fulfil your family obligations.”
“You would respect my duty but surrender your own?” She shook her head. “That I would not ask of you, Robert, nor anything else. I will be your wife the moment I am free. And I want nothing in exchange except to have you as my husband.”
“Hurrah!” He seized her around the waist and plucked her off her feet as if she weighed nothing. “Hurrah! Hurrah!”
His joyous shouts filled the air, startling a small flock of birds from the treetops of Ladywood to flight.
Then he began to spin around and around with her in his arms, laughing like a man gone mad with delight. Not quite able to grasp how
her life had turned on its ear in less than half an hour, Jocelyn laughed and shrieked with glee until she could scarcely breathe.
At last they collapsed onto the soft green turf in a jubilant, passionate tangle. Much to the consternation of Lord Thetford and his brother, they did not return to the house until they had exchanged one kiss for every day they’d been parted.
Epilogue
Halifax, Nova Scotia,
July 1828
“Nova Scotia.” Lord Thetford seemed to savor the words as he stared out over the deck rail at the bustling garrison port of Halifax. A handsome Eton graduate, he was bound for Cambridge in the fall. “I’ve wanted to see this place for myself ever since I was a little fellow and Aunt Jocelyn used to tell us stories about the bride ship.”
His brother, a junior cadet at the Royal Military Academy, stared up at the stout citadel standing guard over the town below. “Me, too.”
Sir Robert Kerr, Member of Parliament for West Norfolk and recently appointed Minister for Colonial Affairs caught the eye of his beautiful wife and winked. Some things never changed.
In fact, Sir Robert could not have been more proud of how Jocelyn’s nephews had flourished in their care. After ten years, he looked on them quite as his own sons. For a time it had appeared the boys would be all the family they would ever have. And then…
Clinging to her cousin Thetford’s hand, four-year-old Edwina Kerr popped a well-sucked thumb out of her mouth and asked, “What is the bwide ship?”
Thetford tweaked the brim of her bonnet. “Did your mama never tell you how she came to meet your papa?”
When the little girl replied with a solemn shake of her head, Thetford cast his aunt a mischievous grin. “Shame on you, Auntie. You’ve neglected your duty as a teller of bedtime stories quite shamelessly.”
“Oh, Ford, don’t tease her.” Lady Jocelyn Kerr repeated the oft-spoken plea of mothers down through the ages. “You know she is too young for those sorts of stories.”
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