Gold, Frankincense and Myrrh

by Ann Jacobs

  John laughed as he poured himself a glass of the liqueur. He sipped it. Then he walked over to where his mother was sitting. He glanced at the letter from Rob.

  “You want to talk about it, Mother?” John asked carefully.

  Anne didn’t need to ask about what. “No. I do not. This is my personal affair.”

  “Are you seriously contemplating Cousin Rob’s offer of marriage?” he demanded.

  “Yes,” Anne said in a warning tone.

  “And what will you answer him?” John asked, his voice careful once more. His mother could flay a person alive with only a few well-chosen, quiet, and always well-deserved words. Lady Anne never raised her voice. She was never rude. Even when angry, she maintained her dignity. Yet, she did not tolerate people interfering in her personal matters.

  Anne smiled. “That’s between the gentleman and myself, Solway.”

  “Mother, how would this affect my leaving for Oxford next autumn?” John asked in concern. When his mother resorted to calling him by his title in that tone of voice, instead of “son”, he knew to tread carefully. “The estate can’t be left without someone in the family managing it.”

  “I am aware of this. I’m certain that some accommodation can be made,” Anne said with more confidence in her voice than she felt. She wanted to see him begin studies at Oxford. His father had spent time there reading law. A few years reading towards a degree would do him a world of good and give him a sense of the real world he’d never get if he stayed here tending crops, raising livestock, and managing the fishery. But if she wasn’t here at Hepburn Hall and if John were away at University, she didn’t know how the estate would be managed and the people cared for. Certainly, it was a bad idea to leave things totally in the hands of an agent. People had gone seriously bankrupt due to bad decisions taken by their estate agents. This was John’s future. Anne needed to safeguard it for him. Her son’s welfare had to be provided for, no matter what else happened.

  John nodded. “I’m certain that something can be worked out,” he answered with less confidence than she would have liked. Then he smiled at her, genuine relief on his face, “I don’t really need to go to University.”

  “Yes, Solway. You do need a University education. You will never regret the time you spend there. I want you to have these years. Your father read law at Oxford. You’ve always had a great enjoyment of history. While your life will be tied to Hepburn Hall, you should have intellectual interests as well.”

  She hesitated, then said her words intended to carry no further than her son’s ears, “Cromwell’s own health is failing. When he’s gone, there is no one else strong or feared enough to hold together this political house of straw that they’ve created. Our rightful king will finally take his throne. And the House of Lords will be restored. When that happens, you must take your proper place within it, as soon as you are of age to do so. You are required to prepare yourself to be a leader. A university education will equip you to better serve your nation. For that reason, you must have these years. There is no other answer for it. You are the Earl of Solway. This is your duty.”

  John looked at his mother for a long time without speaking. When he did answer her, his voice was both thoughtful and low in volume, “That is the most political speech we have ever had together, Mother.”

  Anne smiled at her son. “Political speech is a dangerous thing, my son. Especially now. There is no need for further discussion about this. And we never had this speech together. Do you understand me?”

  “Aye, Madam. I do hear you and I will obey. Yet you are contemplating marrying Cousin Rob, who is part of this government,” John demanded, keeping his voice low. “Why?”

  Anne’s expression became impossible for her son to decipher. She spoke in a normal tone, “Supper will be served soon. It would be a good thing if you went to wash.”

  John laughed. “I shan’t sit at table in my dirt, Mother.”

  “Go!”

  Anne watched her son leave the room. All of this would work out. There had to be an overwhelming reason for this royal command. It would be easy for her to talk herself out of being obedient to Charles. Whatever it cost her, she had to be a loyal subject of her king.

  Satisfied with the point on the quill, Anne opened the inkwell and began to write to Rob.

  * * * * *

  Rob Garrick sat at his desk in his townhouse in London on Monday, 30 November. The time had just gone five in the afternoon. His butler announced the messenger he had sent to Nan had returned. The messenger came into the office. So Nan had sent an answer. Rob was hesitant to read this. However, he took the letter from his man, then told the servant to go get something to eat. Once he was alone again, he opened the letter.

  My dearest Robert, she had written. Now that gave him hope. He kept reading. I have received your kind offer of marriage. Although I am most unworthy of you, if after we discuss matters face to face, you are certain that this marriage is truly what you desire, then I shall be more than happy to accept your offer. Pray, come to Hepburn Hall to discuss this with me in more detail than can be done via this cold medium of paper and ink.

  He smiled at that. Nothing between Nan and himself could ever be cold. The sheets on their bed certainly wouldn’t be. Of that he was certain.

  Rob could easily imagine holding her, her lovely red hair hanging down, her clad only in her chemise, ready for bed. That thought of her in such a state of undress filled him a profound longing to have her in his arms, in his bed beneath him. He could imagine her naked form, bathed in candlelight. Her breasts unfettered, available to his touch, to his mouth. Her mouth his for the taking, however he wanted. Her hips ripe and rounded, lifting to meet his thrusts as she lay beneath him. Or even, perhaps, her hips grinding against him as she took the upper hand in their lovemaking. He imagined her face, wearing the expression of a woman well and truly loved, asleep on the pillow beside him. He imagined her great with his child.

  He speculated as to what sort of lover she would be. Would she love him sweetly with passion? Or would she be cool and dignified even in bed?

  Somehow, given her letters to Jane, Rob could not easily believe that “cool” was in any way a valid descriptor. Nan was far too passionate in her words for her to be cool in intimate matters. She possessed a true redhead’s fire. The late Lord Solway certainly had never expressed any lack of satisfaction with his marriage. Indeed, while Parliament had been in session, he could hardly wait for adjournment to return to his home, wife, and children.

  Fiery Nan. Would she be adventuresome in bed? Would she be eager for their mating? Would she long for his touch, for his kiss, for his possession of her? He hoped so. He truly hoped so, for he was eager for her.

  Nan was a gracious and lovely lady. Rob could think of no one else with whom he would like to spend the rest of his life. The fact that she had written so to him filled him with happiness. She could have simply declined his offer. Yet, she hadn’t done that.

  He continued to read her letter, And as you quoted poetry to me, let me offer with some minor modification the words of John Wilbye;

  ‘Love not me for comely grace, For my pleasing eye or face; Nor for any outward part, No, nor for my constant heart: For those may fail or turn to ill, So thou and I shall sever. Keep therefore a true man’s eye, And love me still, but know not why; So hast thou the same reason still To doat upon me ever.’

  I await your convenience, Anne

  Whistling, Rob decided that he would leave tomorrow morning, first light. With good weather, and staying to the Roman roads, trading for fresh horses regularly at posting houses, he should be able to cover a hundred miles a day. He could be at Hepburn Hall by Thursday at sunset. If the weather didn’t cooperate, it would be Friday or Saturday.

  Chapter Two

  Rob dismounted before the weathered stone structure that was Hepburn Hall on Wednesday morning 23 December. This place, Hepburn Hall, had been here so long overlooking Solway Firth that the house almost seemed part o
f the landscape.

  Winter storms had delayed his leaving London. And then other storms had left him stranded at Inns along the way for several days at a time. It had been a cold and miserable ride.

  Rob had not ridden from London alone. He had brought two cousins and his best friend with him. Luggage and gifts, as well as Rob’s valet had been conveyed by one of Rob’s own ships up the coast. They should be here awaiting his arrival. Rob knew that he could have cut weeks from his trip if he had taken passage on the ship. He wasn’t a good sailor at the best of times, which made the fact that much of his money was derived from shipping that much more ironic. Rob far preferred to travel by horse, when possible.

  He’d stopped for the night in the village as the cloud cover had portended a moonless night. It would not have been safe to ride even this last leg of the long journey in the dark. After coming this far, he wasn’t about to risk breaking a horse’s leg or his own neck.

  The clouds that had closed in late yesterday afternoon began to release their moisture in the form of sleet. At least the storm had waited to break until they had arrived.

  A post-boy had met them and taken their horses. A liveried footman had taken the capes and hats of the party and had directed them to the great hall to sit before the fires and warm themselves.

  The hall was a large and impressive room. Fires burned from two great gray marble mantled fireplaces. The walls were paneled in oak. The floors were gray marble with black marble diamond insets. The furnishings were heavy, well made. The chairs were upholstered in gold brocade. Paintings, some of which looked very valuable even to a relatively uneducated eye, hung along the walls. Over the mantle hung a large portrait of a beautiful auburn-haired woman and Lord Anthony Hepburn, the late Earl of Solway, the man who had loved Nan first.

  Rob made a mental note to himself to have the portrait taken down and replaced by one featuring himself and Nan. They’d have one painted to mark the celebration of their betrothal and marriage.

  It had been several years since last he had seen Nan. He had to admit he was nervous about this meeting. There were things to be considered as they thought about marrying. Marriage was often a matter of property and progeny. Although with Nan, he couldn’t view marriage as anything but the desire of his heart, in spite of their circumstances.

  “She is a woman of great property, obviously,” Henry Clay, Rob’s best friend, said thoughtfully.

  John, the current Earl of Solway, entered the room. He spoke with ice in his voice, “No, my mother has only her widow’s jointure and a relatively small independence. The hall, the estate, is mine. If you think to become wealthy as a result of this marriage to my mother, Cousin Robert, you are most gravely mistaken. I manage my own estate on a day-to-day basis.”

  Rob looked at John. “Good morrow, Solway.”

  John nodded. “Cousin Robert,” he acknowledged with no warmth in his voice. Yet, his mother had raised him to be polite. Already, he had been blunt to the point of rudeness. He regretted that. Much more control was called for. “Gentlemen, you must be cold. Allow me to furnish you with a hot drink. Pray be seated by the fires and warm yourselves. Take your ease. And pray, make yourself at home.”

  On days like today, a great kettle filled with wine and whole spices was kept slowly simmering banked with coals to provide warmth for all the household, the tenants, and any travelers who happened by.

  A young maid carrying a tray of mugs and a tall earthenware carafe came into the room.

  “Lady Solway told you of my proposal of marriage, I take it,” Rob said in an easy voice to John.

  “Aye, that she did,” John replied, his voice still holding little warmth.

  “And you do not approve?” Rob asked.

  “It is not my place to approve or disapprove. My mother’s life is her own to do with as she will. I do have concerns, however,” John answered as the maid poured the hot, spiced wine into the large earthenware mugs and began to serve the men.

  “I’d be truly concerned if you had none,” Rob told him, with a smile.

  John nodded as he took a cup from the young servant. “Thank you, Sally. You may return to your duties.”

  “Yes, milord,” the young woman replied with a proper curtsey.

  John sipped the hot wine, relishing the warmth and giving him some time for his temper to cool down. He would not tolerate being talked to as a child by this man, cousin or no. But, he couldn’t afford to unleash his considerable temper. Perhaps Rob hadn’t meant that in the condescending way he had taken it.

  The rest of the men sipped their drinks.

  Rob prodded John, “And what concerns trouble your mind, Solway.”

  Ah, that was better. At least there was respect in Garrick’s tone. “Lady Solway is my mother. Her happiness is of primary concern for me,” John replied, keeping his voice civil. “I would not take it well were anyone to cause her sorrow or pain.”

  “This is as it should be,” Rob replied with a smile. “Her happiness is of paramount concern for me as well. Your mother has been a dear friend for many years. I should like nothing better than for her to become my wife.”

  John nodded. “She has given the matter of your proposal much thought. That is more than she has accorded to the other proposals that have come her way over the years since my father’s death.”

  Rob’s smile muted and his eyes sharpened.

  John smiled slightly. “Surely, you did not believe yourself to be the first man since my father’s passing to see my mother for the lovely woman she is? Most of the proposals have come from people seeing only her small fortune. My mother is far too canny to be taken in by false affection.”

  “My regard for your mother is not false,” Rob replied, with an edge to his words.

  “I made no representation that it was,” John replied with a larger smile.

  “Are you planning to read law at University?” Rob asked, with a small smile, realizing that he had been baited and had risen to the bait. He’d have to watch that. The boy, the young man, standing before him was testing him. And Rob knew that he had not fared well in this test, so far.

  “Perhaps. I had thought to read history. However, I may read law,” John remarked. “That is, if I am able to leave the estate in capable hands long enough to go to University. Great Uncle Cuthbert believes me to be more than ready for University.”

  Rob’s smile became less broad. “Is Cuthbert Hepburn in charge of your education?”

  John’s smile became broader at the obvious discomfort in Rob’s face. “Aye. What else is the dear man to do with himself? There are only limited opportunities for an elderly man with a doctorate in sacred theology.”

  “Especially for a deposed Anglican bishop,” Rob replied thoughtfully.

  Joshua Fielding, Rob’s clergyman cousin, spoke up. “I have read the books by Doctor Hepburn. He has a truly fine mind.”

  John looked for the first time in detail at Rob’s companions. Two of them had the look of Army officers. John thought the one who spoke was likely to be a Presbyterian minister.

  “Aye, that he does,” John agreed.

  “He lives locally, my lord?” Joshua Fielding asked in surprise.

  “He lives in this house. Where else would he go? This is where he was born and reared,” John said with a shade of amusement in his voice. “Home is a wondrous place when one has no other place to go. I will not tolerate any disrespect for my great uncle.”

  Joshua smiled. “I am certain that disrespect is the last of the attitudes any of us should show the gentleman. I do hope to be able to have speech with him while we are here.”

  “And how long might that be?” John asked, with just a shade of sharpness to his voice.

  Just then, Anne came into the room. Rob’s companions rose to their feet.

  Rob turned to face Nan. He couldn’t help the smile that came across his face. Although many women had shunned the wearing of colors, either as an economy measure or as a political statement, she had not. Sh
e stood before him a vision of utter loveliness from the thick coil of deep auburn hair that lay at the back and top of her head to the pretty soft ringlets dressed with pearls and ribbons that framed her fair face to the soft green wool of her clothing. Her figure had filled out over the years. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

  Green was the color of revolution. Yet, she looked anything except revolutionary. Anne moved with all the dignity of the noble born woman she was. Rob wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her soundly. But, that was not yet his right.

  “My lady,” Rob greeted her.

  “Sir Robert, welcome. Your man and luggage arrived some time ago. We were beginning to fear for your safety. I am pleased to see those fears were false. Your room is prepared as are rooms for your companions. Perhaps you would care to rest after your journey?”

  “Thank you, my lady. Today’s leg took us only from the village. Allow me to present my companions. Major Henry Clay, the Reverend Doctor Joshua Fielding, and Captain Sir Nathaniel Barrow. Doctor Fielding is my cousin. I brought him to officiate at the wedding. Sir Nathaniel is also my cousin. Major Clay is an old friend from school.”

  Anne smiled slightly and nodded to the men.

  “Lady Solway,” all three gentlemen answered.

  “Major Clay, Doctor Fielding, Sir Nathaniel,” Anne greeted them. “Pray be seated, gentlemen. Knowing Sir Robert, I daresay that you have had some excitement on the roads betwixt Londontown and Hepburn.”

  Henry Clay laughed. “Are you certain, Rob, it is advisable to consider marrying any woman who knows you this well?”

  Rob laughed. “Oh, I believe so.”

  Anne smiled slightly. “I understand the day has turned truly miserable.”

  “It has indeed, my lady,” Joshua Fielding said warmly. “But the warmth and hospitality of this house has vanished all memory of the inclement weather.”

  Anne smiled genuinely. “Doctor Fielding, you have a golden tongue.”

  “I fear it goes with my calling, m’am,” Joshua Fielding replied easily.