A Timeless Romance Anthology: European Collection

by Annette Lyon

  “I know you have helped Papa in his Parliamentary career.”

  “Yes, though I knew nothing about politics when we were married. I decided we needed a common interest if we were not to become one of those couples who never speaks to each other.”

  Because of her mother’s overly emotional nature, Melissa had never really given her credit for having formed a healthy marriage. Her own intemperate emotions had virtually ended Melissa’s marriage before it had properly begun.

  Mama continued. “I have always thought that because of my support in his career, your papa was closer to me than the average husband and wife when I had my children. That is when love began to grow between us. We both loved you and Donald so much.”

  Had Melissa not chafed at that love, thinking it was perhaps too weighty, too manipulative? Thinking of Sophie’s parents, she wondered how she ever could have complained. Sophie’s mother was wildly unstable, manipulating her daughters quite shamelessly with physical and emotional mistreatment. Her father, though he claimed to love her, never did anything to restrain his wife. He lived quietly behind his library door.

  “I am sorry,” Melissa said. “Perhaps I have taken your love for granted and been a very spoiled, willful child. That is how Thomas sees me, I am convinced.”

  “That will change when you have your own children,” her mother said, patting her knee. “We have perhaps overindulged you, dear, but you have a good heart. You will make a wonderful mother.”

  “I will never be a mother. I told poor Thomas that we would live separate lives. I was so hurt, Mama. I thought he loved me.”

  “Judging by the way he looked at you, I thought so too. Are you certain he does not?”

  “If he did once, he does no longer.”

  After her mother left, Melissa wept.

  Chapter Eight

  Thomas had not lived at Oaksey Hall by himself for any length of time since it had been refurbished. Thanks to his uncle’s legacy, its ivy-covered gray stone walls were now secure. The slates on the perpetually leaking roof had been replaced, and the damage the leaks had done inside the hall was repaired. From his library window, he could see the lake, now full and free of weeds and scum since he had cleared the streams that fed and drained it.

  He labored in the sun alongside his head gardener to restore the extensive flower gardens. Of course, this was ungentlemanly labor, and he could easily have hired more gardeners, but it gave him peace to his mind to be working thus. This garden had been his mother’s pride and joy, and he felt close to her as he trimmed back overgrown perennials, tamed the tangle of rose branches, and planted flats of new varieties of English country flowers.

  Each evening, he sat on his terrace and looked over the results of that day’s work. He drank ale with a simple dinner of fish or fowl. The next project would be the succession houses, which hadn’t been used for nearly a century. He longed to fill them with all varieties of citrus, colorful orchids, and grapes.

  In spite of his work, or maybe because of it, he fought a deep melancholy every night as he fell into bed. He lay for long hours, looking at the stars outside his window. Thomas had a wife. She did not want him, so there would be no child. Who was all of this for? The more beautiful and sturdy he made his surroundings, the deeper his melancholy grew.

  One day in June, he was surprised to see a lone rider coming up the gravel drive.

  He hastily raced to his dressing room to make himself clean and presentable. In a very short time, a footman entered to tell him that Lord Kent was below.

  Does he bring tidings of his daughter?

  Thomas entered the drawing room with his hand outstretched. “Lord Kent, how good it is to see you! How does your family?”

  The parliamentarian looked stern but nevertheless took the offered hand. “Oaksey.”

  “Do you have news?” Thomas asked again. “Please have a seat.”

  Melissa’s father seated himself in a massive red velvet chair. “My wife and son are well. Melissa, however, is in low spirits.”

  Despite himself, Thomas was glad. Was it possible she missed him? He managed to keep an impassive face as he said, “I am truly sorry to hear that.”

  “Now that you have her money and have deserted her, I doubt that very much.”

  Thomas swelled with indignation. “I don’t know what she has told you, but she made it abundantly clear that she would not live in the same house with me. Nor did she ever wish to lay eyes on me again.”

  “Only because she found out you were after her fortune. You broke my gel’s heart.” Lord Kent’s face set in a forbidding scowl, his thick, wiry eyebrows nearly covering his eyes.

  His declaration gave Thomas pause. Had he really broken Melissa’s heart? Or was this merely the interpretation of an overly fond parent?

  “She gave me rather the impression of a spoiled shrew. I did not imagine it should come as any surprise that her money was welcome. You knew it, certainly, and so did Lord Donald.”

  “Was she never more than a bag of money to you then?”

  “Of course she was! And well she knows it. For my sins, I fell in love with her. She knows that. But she chose to disregard my feelings. And, if she was honest with me on our honeymoon, she has since disregarded her own feelings as well.”

  Lord Kent raised his eyebrows. “Is that so?” He squirmed a bit in his chair. “Women can be the very devil! Unless you are constantly flattering them, they take offense over the littlest thing.”

  “To be honest, she thought I had deceived her, and that is no little thing. She led me to believe she no longer cared for me.”

  “That, my dear Oaksey, is a complete and utter whisker. She is very low in spirits. My wife tells me that Melissa lives like a recluse in her dressing room. Doesn’t even venture to any other part of the house. Eats nothing but a little fruit. Sleeps through her days. It is not like my gel, not like her at all!”

  Thomas stared at his father-in-law. Melissa, depressed to such an extent? His chatty, vivacious Melissa? The idea was almost as strange to him as it was to her father. Could she really be mourning him? He felt as though his heart had flipped inside his chest.

  “How do you know her behavior has anything to do with me? Perhaps it is the gossip and scandal rendering her spirits so low.”

  Lord Kent rose and paced about in a circle in front of the fireplace. “What you say is possible. She has always been Society’s darling. Her future may appear to her to be devilishly flat.”

  “Will she confide in you, my lord?”

  “Possibly. I will tell her I have been to see you. I take it you never received the letter she left at your rooming house in Town?”

  He stared. “What letter?” Confound it! Had she thought twice about the scene she had forced on him? “I left Town straightaway and came down here. I never received any letter.”

  “She thinks you did— and chose to ignore it.”

  “I wouldn’t have done so, my lord.”

  “I will tell her so.”

  Thomas paced in front of the fireplace, impatience and hope combining to make his movements abrupt. “See here. If she has changed her mind and wishes to reconcile, have her write another letter, and I shall return to her. We will try to do things over and see if we can make a happy life together.”

  “That seems a most sensible suggestion. Let us hope she will not be stubborn about it.” He remained standing. “Now I should like to see over your place here. Word has it that you spent your inheritance bringing this place up to snuff.”

  “I did. Come, I will show you everything. I confess, I hoped to make Melissa happy here.”

  For the rest of the afternoon and part of the next morning, Thomas showed his father-in-law completely through the hall, the park, and the farm. They dined and played loo in the evening.

  “I can see that Melissa could be very happy here,” Lord Kent said.

  “I have always meant to raise a family here. I experienced great happiness here as a boy.”


  “May God grant your desires, Oaksey.”

  Chapter Nine

  When her father came to call, Melissa was very ill indeed. She had not even risen from her bed to dress that day.

  “Well, miss, I have paid that husband of yours a visit. I asked if he had received your letter. He said he had not, and I believe him. He has not been in Town all this time, but on his estate in Suffolk. A very fine estate it is, too. I think you would be most happy to be its mistress.”

  “Papa, you should have spoken to me. He will think I sent you. I assume he is spending my money like water?”

  “No, as a matter of fact. He is taking great pleasure setting the gardens to rights with his own labor and that of his head gardener. I own, I was impressed with the man as well as with the estate.”

  Melissa groaned. Had her rashness and pride cost her any chance of happiness? The idea brought her to tears. If only she did not feel so wretched! Her weakness caused her to cry at the slightest thing. But was this really a slight thing?

  Wiping her eyes, she said, “I let my temper and disappointment get the best of me, Papa. Mama says you married her for her money. Did you love her?”

  “Love came to our marriage, but it was not there to begin with, no. However, young Oaksey says you should know that he does love you. He told you so.”

  She thought back to the time when they rode in the carriage the first day out of Scotland. He had told her so amid fervent kisses. But she had discounted the words afterwards, believing he had only said them to sway her senses.

  A heavy burden settled in her chest. “I have made such a mistake, and I fear it is too late to make it right.”

  “Too late? Whatever do you mean?”

  “I fear I am dying. I lose strength daily, and my spirits are most horribly depressed.”

  “Has Mama called the physician?”

  “No. She does not know how ill I have become. I have not wanted to worry her. I was afraid of bringing on her palpitations.”

  “That was an unwise decision. We shall have the physician now. And while you wait for him, you will write your husband a letter, this time to his estate, welcoming him home. I believe all that ails you is a bout of low spirits brought about by loneliness and the knowledge that you are responsible for your own misery.”

  Melissa disagreed but took the calling card with her husband’s country direction written on the back. While she waited for Dr. Kerry to come, she wrote a letter.

  My dear Thomas,

  I am so terribly sorry for all the unhappiness that my surly temper has brought upon us. I should have remembered your words in the carriage, or rather, I should have believed them. I have had much leisure to consider the error I made in letting you think I wanted us to live in separate establishments. I was hurt, and I struck out at you. I honestly did not know I possessed such a temper.

  I only hope it is not too late to beg you to forgive me and come to me. I am quite ill, but the thought that I may see you soon will sustain me.

  I do truly love you,

  Melissa

  Chapter Ten

  When Thomas first received Melissa’s letter, he was greatly relieved by her profession of love and honest desire for forgiveness. However, the news that she was ill sent him from the breakfast parlor, flying up the stairs to his dressing room, where he pulled open the cupboards and shouted for his valet.

  “Have I enough clean shirts for three or four days?” he asked. “And cravats?”

  Winston assured him that he did. “Let me pack for you, my lord. You seem a bit agitated.”

  “My wife is quite ill. I wish to bring her out of London’s filthy air and take care of her here in the country. Please tell Mrs. Abernathy to prepare the countess’s suite and see that the beds are properly aired.”

  “Mrs. Abernathy is all that is capable, my lord. She knows well how to ready a room. You are working yourself into an unnecessary lather.”

  As he packed, he added further instructions. “And ask her to see to it that the most beautiful flowers in the garden be cut and arranged throughout the house, but particularly in the countess’s suite.”

  “Yes, my lord.”

  “Have her tell Cook that we shall be returned, hopefully in four days, but that she is not to prepare anything rich. The countess is ill, remember.”

  “Yes, my lord. I remember.”

  Finally, with the aid of his staff, Thomas was off on his stallion, glad he had left his carriage in London so he could travel post haste. Galloping through the countryside, he wondered why Lord Kent had not told him of Melissa’s illness. Thomas would have gone straight to her side, regardless. His mind went back to one of its favorite dwelling places: the memory of the carriage journey from Gretna Green to London. Three perfect days and nights.

  He recalled Melissa’s vitality, her passion, her playfulness. And her soft, soft skin. He remembered seeing her with her glorious fair hair down across her shoulders. And the sparkle of delight in those cornflower blue eyes. Thomas prayed they would have a chance to make new memories and that his beloved would not shortly be consigned to the cold earth as his parents had been.

  Upon his arrival in London, he went directly to Oaksey House. Going straight in, he informed the astonished butler, “I’m Oaksey. Is my wife abed?”

  “Uh, yes, your lordship. I understand the countess to be in her dressing room.”

  Galloping up the stairs, Thomas scarcely noticed the new look and fresh smell of his home. He raced through the countess’s bedroom into her dressing room.

  Melissa was asleep. His heart froze for a moment as he looked at her wan face and the dark circles under her eyes. He didn’t remember her cheekbones being so sharp. Kneeling at the side of her bed, he placed his hand gently on her forehead. No fever. Nevertheless, he pulled up her blanket so it covered the hands which lay over each other on her waist.

  Drawing a small stool away from the dressing table, he set it by the daybed and sat down, intending to wait until she woke. Almost immediately, her eyes flickered open.

  To his surprise, she gave him a radiant smile, “Oh, Thomas, I am so glad you are here! I have such news.”

  “You are pale, and you have lost weight...”

  “Thomas, we are to be parents! I am increasing.”

  For a moment, he was breathless. He could not take it in. “Then why are you so ill?” he asked. “Is there a chance you may lose the baby?”

  “I do not believe so. Some women get very ill, is all. I have decided that the sicker you are, the more likely you will be to have a successful confinement.”

  For a few moments, Thomas remained silent, confused by contradictory feelings. “I have always wanted children, darling. But not at the cost of your health. Not if I may lose you.” Kneeling by her side, he ran the back of his hand down her smooth cheek.

  “I am taking very good care of myself. Presently, I shall walk about the house for some mild exercise. And Papa has found me the best physician in Harley Street.”

  Oaksey grinned. “He would. We are agreed that you are the most precious of women. Please, please forgive me.” He took her hand in his and brought it to his lips.

  “Of what do I have to forgive you?” she asked.

  “For staying away my first day in London. I was eager to pay my debts to my faithful friends. But if I had been here, I do not think you would have mustered up such fury. I would have been on hand to convince you of my love.”

  She brought a hand up and ran it through his hair. Her eyes were earnest as she said, “I am so sorry for my dreadful temper. It is fitting that I should be struck so low. It has given me time to think. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

  “I want you to know that I fell for you at your come-out. I knew nothing of your dowry then. Your good nature sparkled from those beautiful blue eyes, and I was enslaved by every graceful move you made. I had been looking for a lady like you for a long time.” He cupped her chin and leaned down to kiss her.

  “But I am so ord
inary,” Melissa said.

  “Extraordinary. Have you any idea how rare it is to find a good nature coupled with such beauty?”

  “My nature is not so very good. I threw you out of your own house. And when I am old, I shall have thirteen chins.”

  He laughed at her solemnity. “I do not believe it. As for throwing me out, any woman with a speck of self-respect would have done the same. But you will be the perfect life’s partner for me,” he said. “I adored my parents, and for years I have had the dream of restoring domestic felicity to the hearth of Oaksey Hall. They died while I was away at school, and my home has never felt the same. But you will give it new heart.”

  “Papa said it was very grand, but very comfortable as well.”

  His heart swelled with happiness he had never thought to feel. “It is all ready for you and our child.”

  “I love you, Thomas. And I’m so very, very glad you were poor and had to marry me.”

  Leaning down over the daybed, he kissed his wife again then ran his index finger along her jawline. “I shall take the very best care of you,” he murmured. “I want you to last.”

  Epilogue

  It was a winter evening, and the snow was piled deep outside Oaksey Hall. But within, there was rejoicing. In the countess’s chamber, a new infant’s lusty cry could be heard. Little Lord Richmond Burroughs lay in his mother’s arms. His wailing soon stopped as his suckling began. His papa, the earl, stood over his wife and son, tears trickling down both cheeks.

  “You have an heir,” his wife said, satisfaction evident in her voice.

  “He is bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh,” Lord Oaksey said. “Thank you for bringing him into the world, my love. That was a splendid effort.”