by Julia London
“Darling, he tried to see you, but Beck wouldn’t allow it. He told him he’d done enough and it wouldn’t do.”
“He was here?” she cried. While she’d been sobbing herself sick, he’d come.
“But this morning, a man appeared at my door with a letter. One of his guards, I think. Anyway, he said the prince asked me to see it safely delivered to you.” She pressed the folded paper into Caroline’s hand. Tears began to fill her eyes, and she stood. “I must be gone. I mean to expose this corruption.” She leaned down to kiss Caroline’s cheek.
Caroline didn’t know what she meant by that and lacked the energy to ask. She stood woodenly and followed Hollis out onto the landing, the letter clutched in her hand. She watched her dear friend rush down the curving staircase, watched her speak to Beck, then surprisingly, watched them embrace. It was as if she’d died.
She returned to her sitting room and shut the door, staring at the letter. She drew a breath. Then another. And then she read it.
Darling Caroline, by the time you read this letter I likely will have set sail for Helenamar. Given events, I am obviously no longer welcome in England. I have agonized for you and regret that there wasn’t a moment to speak.
There seems quite a lot that should be said, but time restricts me, so I will write this: I never believed love would find me. I never believed that in my position, I would know the luxury of love. My world was a fog of pleasure and privilege, but then you came along and pierced that fog.
I never dreamed I would meet someone like you, much less love someone like you. I fear this love I hold for you will drive me to madness. I think of you every day and I will for the rest of my life. I will hold dear what we have shared. I will never have the strength to feel this way again, and I want you to know, no matter what else, I loved you beyond compare and will burn for you for the rest of my days.
So did she love him beyond compare. So would she burn for him until she was all burned up.
She didn’t care if she was sent to the country. She didn’t care about anything anymore.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Bibury, the Cotswolds
Everyone who is able has left the dreaded summer heat of London, but a few souls remain, including a peacock, who lost a few feathers this summer and reportedly hasn’t the energy to fly.
Lady Caroline Hawke announces she will not be taking orders for dresses, as she has decided the London air is unkind to her constitution and has determined to take some time to recuperate in the country.
After a scandalous departure of one maid, a certain lady whose husband is a rising star in politics has taken two more new servants into the fold. The lucky young ladies are Londoners.
Disturbing rumors of a slave ring operating at the highest reaches of British government continue to swirl, and we’ll be keeping our eyes and ears open to bring you more news of it.
Ladies, new studies in physical health suggest that calisthenics should be incorporated into every woman’s daily routine.
—Honeycutt’s Gazette of Fashion and
Domesticity for Ladies
THE THREE LADIES gathered in the drawing room at the Hawke country house had come from the parish village. Two of them were seated politely on the settee. One of them stood on a box, her arms held out as Caroline measured her.
She’d been in the country for four months now. Summer had long since departed and a cool autumn had taken its place. She’d taken to wearing her hair long and in a single tail down her back—it didn’t seem worth the effort to coif and curl when she had no society to impress. She likewise wore a plain skirt and one of Beck’s old shirts tucked into it, as well as one of his older sweaters that hung to her knees.
Around the drawing room were dresses in various stages of construction. She didn’t care to wear them anymore, but making them took her mind off...other things. “You will look lovely in blue, I think, Mrs. Carter. Do you like the blue silk?” she asked.
“Oh, but it’s beautiful,” the woman said.
“You may lower your arms,” Caroline said. She looked at her notes and smiled at the three women. “All right, then, I have three dresses to be made for the Yuletide. One red,” she said, pointing at one of the ladies on the couch. “One in the green-and-cream-striped silk, and the blue.”
The women all nodded their heads in agreement.
“Wonderful!” Caroline said, and nodded at Martha, who stood from her desk and walked over to the ladies. “Thank you all so very much for coming.”
“Thank you, Lady Caroline,” Mrs. Carter gushed.
Martha escorted the ladies to the door. She paused to chat with them, something about the new doctor in the village, and then saw them out. Martha liked it here, Caroline could tell. She’d taken to baking, and she and the cook who came from Bibury four days a week had become fast friends.
Caroline liked it here as well as anywhere, she supposed. Perhaps even more. Strangely enough, she didn’t miss society. In fact, she often wondered why that elite social circle had been so important to her. It seemed rather vacuous to her now. She had seemed vacuous. She’d allowed herself to empty out, to think of only her shell, too fearful to see what ticked inside her. Well, now she knew.
A lot had changed for her these last few months. It was as if being away from London and the constant swirl of parties and suppers, she’d finally come to terms with who she was. As if the cocoon of London she’d created had helped her avoid her true feelings about everything.
Since Leopold had left, she’d slowly realized that so much of her life was devoted to superficial things. Now she knew what she wanted. She wanted a love like she’d shared with him. She wanted her life to mean something. She wanted to make Beck proud of her. She wanted to spend her days doing something more important than dressing and being seen and admired. She wanted to help others. She wanted purpose.
She hadn’t heard from Leopold, which she’d expected. He was an honorable man and he would not correspond with her as he prepared to marry another woman.
Ah, but she’d heard plenty from Eliza and Hollis.
Eliza wrote that Leopold arrived in Helenamar as rumors swirled about his supposed treachery. But then he’d exposed the plot to sell the poor Weslorian women, and some Alucian women, too, Eliza believed, into slavery. He is a hero, Caro. Everyone says so. He risked his reputation and his engagement to expose that horrible plot. Eliza said he was being feted for his noble deeds. She said the entire court was talking about him, as he was not the person anyone expected to care so deeply about anything.
Caroline smiled when she read that part. She wondered what Leopold thought of it all.
Hollis brought her news from town when she came to visit one long weekend. She’d been very kind to Caroline in her gazette, but others had not been kind. All sorts of rumors had surfaced about Caroline and her loose morals. Whispers of the gentlemen she’d entertained, of trysts, of lies she’d purportedly told to hide these things. And the one that stung the most? That she’d not made the dresses she had so very graciously handed around to her friends, but had employed the secret services of a trained modiste.
Hollis had more news—Lord Ainsley had offered for a coal heiress, and once again, Katherine Maugham was left in the cold. Caroline felt a little sorry for her, really. Katherine desperately wanted a match and to be married. Hollis also told her that Mr. Cressidian, the Alucian gentleman, would be tried for his crime of slavery. She said that facts came to light indicating that not only had he profited from brokering the sale of women, but he’d also offered to slander the prince for a price. “It’s so disturbing,” Caroline said.
“It’s horrible,” Hollis agreed. “Do you know what I think is the most remarkable thing about it?”
Caroline shook her head.
“That Prince Leopold would allow his standing to suffer as he did for the sake of those women. Eliza said he has vow
ed to find all the young women sold into slavery if it’s the last thing he does.”
“I always knew he was a good man,” Caroline murmured.
Hollis laughed. “No, you didn’t, darling. You despised him.”
Caroline smiled wanly. “I mean I always knew he was after I despised him. Oh God, Hollis, I miss him so.”
Hollis had moved to sit beside her and laid her head on Caroline’s shoulder. “I know, darling. I still miss Percy.”
* * *
CAROLINE HAD STARTED gardening in the late autumn, intrigued by the way the roses managed to bloom in spite of the early frosts. Eliza wrote again with news that, at first, surprised and elated Caroline. The engagement with Eulalie Gaspar was ended, as her father was implicated in the slavery scheme. Nothing would happen to the Duke of Brondeny, of course, as the Weslorians accused Leopold of manufacturing such slanderous details about him. Neither would anything happen to Mr. Vinters, as the king relied too heavily on his counsel. This has displeased the prince greatly, and I think my husband, as well. It’s difficult for them to understand how their father would want the counsel of a man engaged in that sort of scheme.
Caroline understood it. To men like that, the women they’d harmed were just girls. Nothing to get upset about.
But her surprise and elation at the news about Eulalie soon vanished. She realized that Leopold would simply marry someone else. It would never be her. She could take some solace that the smug little face of Lady Eulalie would be smug no more.
But it would never be her.
She continued making dresses into the early winter, more than there could possibly be demand for in a village as small as Bibury. She took long walks in the afternoon to the extent that her boots began to wear at the heel. The weather was colder, so she began to wear Beck’s buckskins, belting them at the waist. And she continued gardening, shoving her hands into dirt, turning it over, preparing it for spring.
Beck came to call from time to time. He remarked one evening that she seemed different.
“How so?” she asked him as she stacked her feet into a chair at the dinner table and picked up a cheroot.
“More mature,” he said. “You’ve always been sure of yourself, darling, but now you are...comfortable somehow. I can’t rightly put my finger on it. It’s as if you don’t really care that smoking a cheroot is unacceptable and would ensure you’d not receive another invitation.”
She laughed. “I only mean to try it, Beck. Life is so boring without an adventure here or there.”
Beck leaned forward. “Are you happy, Caro?”
She shrugged. “I’m not unhappy. I suppose I’m as happy as I can be for the time being.” She drew from the cheroot and coughed violently. “You mustn’t worry about me, Beck. I always find my way.”
“I have no doubt of it, darling.”
The days grew short and now there was a bitter nip in the air each day. Caroline wrapped a shawl around her neck and wore Beck’s hunting coat when she walked. She had two dogs as companions now, having stumbled on them in a village market. They’d seemed happy to come along on her adventure, trotting along after her as if they belonged to her.
Today, Caroline hadn’t walked a mile when she realized that the dampness on her cheek was snow. She and the dogs turned back.
She cut through on a forest path and came down a hill to where the Hawke estate was spread below them. Caroline happened to notice three riders approaching the house. So did the dogs. They raced ahead, barking at the intruders. Lord, she hoped whoever it was would carry on. She did not like the idea of playing hostess to strangers on a snowy evening. She and Martha liked to play gin rummy on nights like this.
But as she walked down that hill, a strange little current slipped down her spine. The first rider suddenly spurred his horse forward, galloping ahead of the other two. Heat began to fill her chest and rise in her cheeks. She stared at the rider, certain it had to be an apparition. She had to be imagining it. Wouldn’t someone have told her?
But there was no mistaking the Arse of Alucia, her beloved. She threw off her hat and began to run, slipping and sliding down the hill to the road.
He leaped from his horse and raced toward her, pushing his way through the dogs and up the hill. They met midway, where Caroline vaulted into his arms. He caught her, spread his hand against her face and kissed her. He kissed her so hard that they tumbled to the ground and rolled a bit until he managed to stop them. When at last he lifted his head, he grinned at her.
“How?” she asked.
“Oh, that is a long and boring story, but suffice it to say I have returned against my father’s wishes and I’m fairly certain I’m not welcome in Constantine Palace at present. Or in Mayfair.”
Caroline sat up. She put her hands on his face, on his chest, feeling him to see if he was real.
“I went to Beck first,” he said as she continued to assure herself he was real. “He told me where you were. He warned me that you’d changed, and that you might not want to see me.”
“He doesn’t want you to see me,” she said breathlessly.
“He does,” Leopold said, and caught her hands. “Caroline, listen to me. I have spent the last many months wishing for you every day. Every bloody day. I’ve not been able to get you out of my head. Not for a moment.”
She laughed because this was so fantastic, so extraordinary. She had literally dreamed of a moment like this.
He cupped her face in his hands. “Do you understand why I’m here?”
“Eliza said you’d vowed to find all the women they abused.”
He laughed. He stood up and pulled her to her feet. “I have. I will. But I’m here for you, Caroline. Only you. I don’t know where we will go, precisely, but I’ve bought an old castle ruin, and I’ve a lad, Bobbin, who has come along to serve me—seems he was rather taken with me on the voyage to Alucia—but never mind that. I don’t know what else I can offer you but my heart, my love, my undying devotion.”
Caroline blinked. “Beck won’t—”
“He will. It was the only way he’d let me see you.”
Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest. “This is a dream,” she murmured.
“It is no dream, mang leift. I am here, before you now.”
“But Leopold... I’m not her anymore,” she said. “Look at me! I’m not her, I’m someone else now. Everything changed. I changed.”
He ran his hand over her head. “So have I. I know what I want now. I know what matters.”
She was momentarily confused because he’d just voiced thoughts she herself had had. “And you have never looked more beautiful to me than you do now, Caroline. If it weren’t for Kadro and Artur just behind us, I’d show you just how much I love you here and now.” He abruptly sank down onto one knee.
Caroline gasped.
“Lady Caroline Hawke.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I am a prince without a home. A man without a calling. I can offer you very little but a castle ruin, but I will live my life devoted to you. You are the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are the woman I want to raise my children with. You are the woman who has made me wake up to life and understand it’s worth living and is to be cherished. If you will have me, I should very much like to be your husband.”
If this was a dream, Caroline never wanted to wake from it. She had a sudden image of the dress she would make for her wedding. She smiled and turned her face to the sky to savor this moment. Snowflakes were falling all around them. The dogs had come back to investigate and were sniffing around her prince. One guard stood on the road with the horses, the other one had lain on his back, pillowing his head.
“This is an agonizingly long wait for an answer,” Leopold said.
Caroline looked down at him. She leaned over, wrapping her arms around him. “Yes, Leopold. Yes. Forever. In a ruin, in a palace. In a beautifu
l dress or a feed sack. In this life and the next. All of it. Yes.” And then she sank to her knees and kissed him.
They fell onto their sides in that kiss and continued on until the dogs began to lick their faces and make them laugh.
EPILOGUE
One month later
The wedding of His Royal Highness Prince Leopold of Alucia and Lady Caroline Hawke of London was conducted in the Church of Saint Mary in the village of Bibury. Given the time of the year and roads made impassable by heavy snows, the guests were limited to immediate family.
The bride wore a gown of her own creation, made from a combination of her late mother’s recently discovered wedding gown and a pale cream silk imported from France. The gown was embroidered with tiny rosebuds that cascaded down the bodice and the train.
His Royal Highness wore the Alucian style of formal dress, embellished with the medals and pins of his country. Lord Beckett Hawke served as best man and Mrs. Hollis Honeycutt stood with the bride. The happy couple will make their home at the Hawke house in Bibury until such time Herstmonceux Castle can be renovated for use as a private home. We all join the couple in our fervent wish that the castle can indeed be renovated before Jesus calls them home.
The happy couple have donated their time and funds to a new school to be built adjacent to the church. They have been seen working side by side with villagers to complete the building before the new term.
In other news, the Foreign Office announced this week that Her Royal Majesty the Queen will host a peace summit between the kingdoms of Alucia and Wesloria at the end of this year. The Alucians will be represented by His Royal Highness the Duke of Tannymeade. Accompanying him will be the Duchess of Tannymeade and, with God’s blessing, the royal baby, who is due to make his or her appearance in the spring.
The Weslorians have not as yet named their representative.
Thanks to the efforts of this gazette, the Metropolitan Police announced that a Mr. Hemphill of Marylebone has been charged with theft in the case of the missing parish funds, collected by the parishioners of Saint Mark’s Church of England in Mayfair, and dedicated to the orphanage. Mr. Hemphill has admitted to wrongdoing.
