“I need to do my makeup first.”
“Earl Crofton said he already made himself clear on the subject of the strange desire of women to cover themselves in white slop.”
Sebastian laughed. “Ah, yes. He did mention something about it.”
“You’re pale enough to go without, certainly at Crofton Hall, although a little rouge wouldn’t hurt.”
He applied the red paint she gave him to his lips, and a little to his cheeks. “He’ll have to get used to the white if he means me to attend court with him. There’s no way a real noblewoman wouldn’t want to emulate the Queen.”
“Very true. But we’ll fight that battle when the time arrives.”
He followed Miriam out of the room and downstairs. Instead of heading to the large reception room where the wedding feast had been held, they turned left down a corridor and into a smaller family dining room.
Miriam departed with a curtsey, leaving Sebastian alone. The table was set for two, so Sebastian supposed that Anthony had yet to eat, and so he took the seat at the place set to the left of the head of the table. A servant arrived through a side door. She was a young girl that he guessed couldn’t be any older than fourteen, and she carried a basket of bread and a platter of cheese and salted meat. She was clearly curious, darting looks at him as she kept her head down and placed the food on the table, as if knowing that she shouldn’t but couldn’t help her curiosity. She left the way she came, returning moments later with a stoneware jug, only to disappear again once she had filled a wooden cup with beer.
The morning sunlight and its effect on the mahogany paneling gave the room a certain warmth, and a display of flowers in the unlit fireplace hid any underlying unpleasant smells. Sebastian helped himself to breakfast, determined not to dwell on the fact that he had woken alone and would likely be spending much of the foreseeable future in the same way. With the theater, there was always noise, the constant banter filling any silence, and Sebastian supposed he would need to get accustomed to spending time alone.
He was shaken from his thoughts by the arrival of Anthony, dressed for riding in sturdy breeches and boots. “Good morning,” he said, taking a seat. “I trust you slept well.”
“Yes, although I was surprised you did not wake me when you rose.”
Anthony removed his leather gloves and sat down. “I have always been an early riser; I saw no reason to subject you to my affliction when you looked so content to be asleep.”
“I would not have minded.”
Anthony took a large bite of bread, washing it down with a drink of beer. “Are you ready to travel?”
Sebastian tried not to be disappointed that Anthony had already steered their conversation away from the night before. He nodded. “When do we leave?”
“After breakfast. I’ve already seen to it that the carriage is prepared. You should reach Crofton Hall not long after noon.”
“I should reach Crofton Hall…. Are you not to accompany me?”
“I am riding up with a friend who is heading in the same direction, but is continuing further north.”
“But….”
Anthony set his cup down firmly. “A man does not travel by carriage if there is the opportunity to ride, my dear. You know as much.”
“I understand.” He drank his own beer, wondering if there was anything he could say that morning that would prevent the downhill direction of their conversation. “I merely would have liked the company.”
Anthony looked contrite, and reached out and held Sebastian’s hand. “It will take some time for the carriage to escape the outskirts of the city. If I ride on ahead, I will be there to greet you.”
“Of course. Perhaps you have something I could borrow to read during the journey. You will be unsurprised that I don’t have a tapestry to work on.”
“I would be more surprised if you had.” Anthony laughed, and Sebastian decided he liked the noise. “I have already placed a volume or two in the carriage for you to read. I thought you would find the journey tedious otherwise.”
“Thank you. That is very thoughtful.”
“It is the very least I can do after everything you have done.” Anthony drained the last of his beer and stood. “I must depart. Edward will be waiting. I will see you as soon as you arrive at the hall. The coach is ready when you are.”
He bowed low with a theatrical flourish and departed, leaving Sebastian alone again. However, it was not for long, as Miriam arrived to escort him to the carriage. “This way, my lady.”
“Will you being coming to the hall as well?” asked Sebastian, keen that there would at least be one other familiar face at his new home.
“I will be in the coach behind with the cook. She hates to travel, but when your lord gets married, he must have a feast, and there is no way she would let anyone else do something so important.”
They walked through the house, leaving by a set of doors that opened into a large courtyard in which there were two coaches. One had a plain wooden frame with benching to seat six people and was loaded with trunks and provisions, and the second was a smaller, four-wheeled coach, more elaborate and decorative and drawn by two beautiful white horses. A male servant climbed down from the second coach, where he had sat next to the driver, and Sebastian noticed he was armed with a cutlass. He’d had to travel from time to time when he was acting, and he’d always carried a weapon in case bandits and thieves thought he was an easy target, but now he had someone else to protect him, and he couldn’t pretend that he didn’t prefer it.
Sebastian was helped aboard the coach, and was pleasantly surprised at the interior. It was more comfortable than he’d expected, the benches padded with cushions and there were soft woolen blankets he case he should get cold. He spotted a pamphlet and a leather-bound book that Anthony had mentioned, and grinned as he read their titles. The first was The Choice of Valentines by Thomas Nashe, the second Philip Sydney’s The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia.
There was a crack of a whip and a cry to move out from the driver, and the carriage slowly moved forward and into the main street. Sebastian watched as they made their way slowly out of London. The traffic was busy, carts full of produce heading toward the markets or carrying the fine wares of merchants, people darting in and out of the street, all trying to go about their business. It wasn’t until the town began to thin that they could pick up speed, and Sebastian had already finished Nashe’s poem. By the well-thumbed nature of the pamphlet and the erotic nature of the work, he was sure it was one of Anthony’s favorites.
THE ride became less comfortable as the coach bounced over the deep ruts in the dirt tracks. The rain from the preceding days made the going heavy for the horses, but despite being jostled inside the carriage, Sebastian enjoyed the journey. Leaving the city behind, travelling through the woodlands, the stench of thousands of people crammed together in squalid streets was replaced by the fresher smell of trees and undergrowth. He lost himself in pages of The Arcadia, the hours passing in a stream of sonnets and prose.
It was only when the carriage slowed that Sebastian looked up from the book. Staring out of the window, he realized by the position of the sun that it was easily late morning, and as the coach headed over the rise of a hill, he saw Crofton Hall for the first time. He’d been to other grand houses. As a boy, before his father had sold the house in Portsmouth to settle some of his debts, they’d visited Breamore House, as his father was great friends with the family who owned it. And during his first years as an actor, Sebastian’s troupe had performed in many nobles’ houses, but apart from the royal palaces, Crofton Hall was grander than anything he’d seen before.
The house was imposing and beautiful with its red brick façade and symmetrical architecture, the left side mirroring the right. He daren’t think how much money had been spent on its design. The long central gallery had a large entrance at its middle and a wing on either end, with matching chimneys and curved gables that, even from a distance, Sebastian could see were highly decorated.
The formal gardens to the front were a blaze of spring flowers, and extended out of view, Sebastian thought he could see the start of a maze to the west of the house.
The carriage trundled on into the grounds of the hall and passed a gang of men tending to the garden, who stopped working to bow to him. Servants were gathering at the entrance of the house as they arrived, the second coach veering away to the back of the house, and he saw Anthony, dressed to thrill in a deep-blue doublet, waiting among them. The coach halted, and instead of a servant, it was Anthony himself who opened the carriage door.
“Lady Bronwyn,” he said, taking Sebastian’s hand and helping him down, “welcome to your new home.”
Like at the wedding, Sebastian’s appearance caused quite a stir among the onlookers. But unlike the wedding, those watching daren’t be so blatant, and surprised looks soon disappeared as Anthony guided him into the hall.
The entrance was just as magnificent as the outside. Large glass windows made the room light and surprisingly airy. The walls were lined with a collection of shields and decorative weapons, and there was a suit of armor that stood at the foot of an impressive staircase.
“Belonged to my father,” said Anthony, patting the helmet of the armor. “Couldn’t bear to part with it. Let me escort to you room. Then we shall have some dinner. Perhaps you would like to see the gardens this afternoon while the light it still with us?”
“I would like that very much.”
Sebastian took Anthony’s arm and ascended the stairs. The upper gallery was lined with portraits of the Crofton family, the resemblance through the ages obvious, and Sebastian thought that, even without the wooden plaques under each painting, he’d know a Crofton when he saw one. They all had the same long face and straight nose, and the bright blue eyes were unmistakable. Between the pictures were more ornamental weapons, including a curved sword that made Sebastian do a double take.
“A trophy from the crusades,” explained Anthony. “There are a number of historic keepsakes littered throughout the house, some going even further back than that.”
They entered the west wing, its corridor darker than the gallery as the only window was at the far end. About halfway down, passing a large tapestry depicting the hunt of Pan, Anthony stopped and pushed open a solid oak door. “The lady of the hall’s room. I do not think you’ll be disappointed.”
He’d thought the room in the Crofton’s townhouse was special, but it paled in comparison to the room he stood in now. The large window, dressed in heavy drapes of deep violet, flooded the room with sunlight, which was quite a feat given the room was twice the size of anything he’d ever stayed in before. The four-poster bed was ornately carved from a dark wood and covered in a throw the same color as the drapes, and was soft to the touch as he brushed his fingers across its surface.
“This is wonderful.”
“And like the townhouse, there’s a door directly to my room.”
Anthony’s arm snaked around his waist, pulled him close, and guided him to the window. “The view from this side of the house is one of my favorites.”
Sebastian thought the view of the maze and the rose garden was lovely, but he could hardly concentrate on anything other than being wrapped in Anthony’s arms.
“We should head back downstairs for dinner. Afterward, there’s a particular place in the grounds I’d like you to see.” Anthony let him go, and Sebastian was suddenly cold at the loss of contact.
Chapter 6
DINNER, like breakfast that morning, was just the two of them. And Anthony had described a little of the history of the house on the way to a small dining room on the ground floor of the west wing. “Of course, there is the great hall, but I didn’t think you’d relish having to shout across the room to be heard,” said Anthony as he pulled out a chair at the dining table.
“I’m surprised that Earl Crofton did not have a house full of visitors on his return from London.” Sebastian helped himself to a large slice of game pie and half a guinea fowl.
“I crave one day away from society’s great expectations of me. Enjoy it, we have guests more days than not.”
“And as your doting wife, am I to be at the center of the game, or a mere part player on the edge?”
Anthony laughed and almost spat out the chicken he was eating. “I think it would be a crime to banish you to the wings.”
“I doubt even one of Will Shakespeare’s most outlandish plots could hold a candle to the wild life of Anthony Crofton.”
“Perhaps when I was a younger man….” He looked wistful for a moment but winked and continued, “I admit I’ve had my share of excitement. Some might say I’ve had theirs as well.”
Sebastian saluted Anthony with his goblet. “Some might say that you’ve many years of mischief ahead of you.”
They clinked goblets, Anthony’s losing a significant portion of its contents. “Oh no. I am a sedate middle-Englander now, happy to enjoy the gardens and tired of the comings and goings of court.”
Sebastian snorted in what could only be described as a very unladylike manner. “That I do not believe.”
Anthony pushed away from the table. “Then I will have to prove it to you.”
He turned to a servant who had tried to be unobtrusive by standing in a corner. “Have a basket of food and a flask or two of wine taken to the arbor. After that, I do not wish to be disturbed.”
The servant bowed and raced away. Sebastian sat further back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What are you doing?”
He was pulled to his feet and dragged by the hand out of the dining room and toward the entrance of the house. “I am relocating dinner to the gardens,” said Anthony. “I wish to be surrounded by a gentle setting, and I am sure that my lovely wife is eager to see the roses.”
They walked arm in arm across the ornamental lawn. With a glance over his shoulder, Sebastian was satisfied that they were far enough away from the house that they would be out of range of any eavesdropper. “You do realize that I’m not actually a woman? I am sure that the rose gardens are among some of the finest in the whole of England, but I am not what you would call excited by them.”
“I thought there was something I missed last night—next time I should observe more closely.”
“If your observational skills are that poor, then perhaps there are other, more pressing things to be worried about.”
The look on Anthony’s face was priceless, his mouth part open and his eyes wide. Sebastian smirked and wondered if Anthony was not used to having someone who would engage him in a friendly battle of words. He reached over and gently pushed Anthony’s jaw up and closed. “Not a fitting look, Your Grace.”
Anthony grabbed his hand. “You are going to be troublesome. I will have to keep you close to make sure you remain in line.”
“That sounds like a promise, not a threat.”
Anthony’s low growl was in no way threatening, and Sebastian found himself manhandled so Anthony’s arm was around his waist and he was being steered toward the rose gardens.
“While we are out of range of any prying eyes or ears, I wanted to speak to you about some arrangements I have put in place,” said Anthony.
“Arrangements?”
“Yes. Crofton Hall is a large house with too many servants for a ruse like ours to go unnoticed without having taken some precautions. A number of the senior servants, the ones I trust absolutely, are aware of what is going on. Miriam and her husband are two of them, but also Wallace the steward and a few others have been told.”
Sebastian nodded. “Makes perfect sense.”
“And there are a few other things to be mindful of,” said Anthony. “When we are outside our private rooms, and you are dressed for the part, I will always call you Bronwyn. And you should take extra care to always lock your bedroom door. We do not want a helpful maid seeing too much.”
“I will do my upmost to make sure our secret remains so.”
“I know you will. Miriam has a key to your room, so s
he will also take care to keep it locked, and she has let it be known that Lady Bronwyn is not fond of having her privacy interrupted.”
Sebastian saw the shimmer of water that disappeared out of sight as they passed through a decorative arch into a secluded garden. It was too early in the year for the roses to be in flower, but the foliage was lush and green and had a fresh aroma all its own.
In the furthermost corner was a stone bench, and in front of it, laid out on woolen blankets, was the remains of their dinner set out as a picnic. Anthony dropped to the ground and arranged himself in a graceful sprawl, picking up a chicken leg and using it to point to the space beside him. “Come down here and bask in my company.”
Sebastian flapped his skirt. “If I sit down there, I may have trouble getting back up.”
“If she is suitably nice to me, then I will help my good lady wife to her feet.”
With difficulty, Sebastian managed to settle on the blanket, but his dress didn’t make for the most comfortable sitting position. He accepted a cup of wine but waved away the food.
Anthony wiped his hands on the blanket before rising to his hands and knees and crawling toward Sebastian, sporting the same lustful expression he’d worn the night before. He gently pushed Sebastian backward and tried to kiss him.
Sebastian rolled away. “What are you doing? We might be seen!”
“This is a very secluded part of the grounds,” replied Anthony, undeterred by Sebastian’s concerns.
“But as you have already said, we should be careful,” he insisted, shuffling away so he was out of arm’s reach. “This should be for when we are alone—for in private.”
“And I’ve told you, here is private.” Anthony scowled. “A man should be able to do what he wants to his wife on his own property. Why so prudish now?”
The word “wife” made Sebastian’s stomach knot painfully, and he wondered just what drove Anthony’s passions. Last night he was sure it was him, just Sebastian, not a skewed image of him as his sister.
The Actor and the Earl Page 5
