by Merry Farmer
“Her Majesty ordered us to wed as soon as possible,” Basil explained, both proud and sheepish over the memory of how it had all happened. “When I went to apply for a special license, I found one had already been made out, and the date fixed for the very next day.”
“All we had to do was show up at the appointed time and place,” Elaine continued the story. “It was rather bizarre, actually.”
“Which would explain why none of us were invited,” Armand Pearson said as he came to join their group.
“There’s not much you can do when the queen issues an order like that,” Basil explained with an apologetic smile. “We would have invited you all if we’d had more than a few hours’ notice of our own nuptials.”
“Which is why we’re having a proper wedding in Brynthwaite,” Elaine went on. “At the end of June. You will all be invited to that, of course.”
“You expect the lot of us to pull up stakes and high-tail it to the backwoods of Cumbria for a wedding?” Malcolm balked, though there was more than a hint of teasing in his eyes.
“Of course,” Basil answered with a casual shrug. “Though there isn’t much in the way of hotel accommodations in Brynthwaite. I suppose some of you could lodge at The Fox and the Lion pub, but Katya, we’ll have to set you up in the chicken coop in back of the bookshop, and Armand, I believe there’s a suitable cave down by the lake that would do nicely for you.”
His friends laughed, and Malcolm punched him in the arm. Peter deVere and his wife, Mariah wandered over to join them, along with Alex and Marigold Croydon.
“What is the meaning of this tomfoolery?” Peter asked.
“We were just discussing what holes we will all be staying in when we travel to wild Cumbria for Basil’s wedding next month,” Armand informed them.
“I believe there’s a stable ready and waiting for you, Lady Dunsford,” Malcolm said, nodding to Mariah’s round stomach. He then muttered, “Two babies within two years. It’s obscene.”
“It’s a blessing,” Peter corrected, full of joy as he gazed at Mariah.
Basil felt an instant camaraderie with that sort of smile and beamed at Elaine in turn. He could hardly wait for the day when he and Elaine would welcome their first child into the world, and their second. He never would have imagined that men of his and Peter’s age could just be starting families, but it felt as pure and natural as the changing of the seasons.
“So what do you have for us?” Alex asked, rubbing Marigold’s hand as it rested in the crook of his elbow. “A nice hovel that we can fix up? A rain gutter that isn’t too wet?”
“Oh, you all are so silly,” Elaine laughed. “Basil has been making inquiries about estates for sale in the area near Brynthwaite.”
“One in particular, Morningside Landing, appears to be a likely candidate,” Basil confirmed with a nod.
“And he’s already purchased my father’s cottage for me as a wedding present,” Elaine said, smiling up at him. “Which I thought was quite nice.”
Basil cleared his throat, grinning modestly. “A certain gentleman by the name of Sudbury woke up last week to find the majority of his debts called in and his assets snapped up by an unnamed, private corporation.”
Armand laughed and slapped him on the back. “That’ll show him to interfere with the incomparable Countess of Waltham.”
Basil chuckled. His friends had heard the whole story, of course. Perhaps it was beneath him to ruin Sudbury the way he had, but as it turned out, Elaine wasn’t the only tenant he’d dealt with harshly. The man was a terrible landlord and an even worse excuse for a human being. By buying him out and setting up a company to manage the properties he’d had under contract, he’d saved half a dozen hard-working families from unnecessary eviction. That revelation had made Elaine as happy as knowing they would be able to live in her childhood home until the sale of Morningside Landing was complete and the estate was renovated. And anything that made Elaine happy was worth the effort.
“Well, well. What a delightful exhibition of gloating.” Basil’s cheerful thoughts were flattened as Shayles, of all people, strolled toward their circle of friends.
“What are you doing here?” Malcolm growled, not even attempting to appear civil.
“I invited him,” Alex said, sending Malcolm a warning look. “I wanted him and his cronies to see what they will be up against in the upcoming session of Parliament.”
“You always were considerate,” Shayles said, managing to make exactly the opposite sound true.
“Your gang looks a little lopsided,” Armand said, glancing to where Gatwick stood, a step or two behind Shayles.
Gatwick cradled a glass of red wine and appeared to be far more interested in the artwork lining Alex’s walls than in anything human. Basil had long wondered if the man was human himself. Lord Denbigh stood on Shayles’s other side, darting glances around the room as if poisoned arrows would be shot at him from all sides.
“Turpin was an unfortunate casualty of war,” Shayles said, sniffing as he glanced at his nails.
“You are a strange, cold man,” Elaine said, eyes narrowed.
Shayles glanced up at her with a look of such pointed fury that Basil inched in front of her, shielding her as though Shayles had drawn a pistol. “Do not think for one second that your miscreant uncle and I were friends,” he said, venom in his voice. “We were allies in a shared cause. He failed to fulfill his duties in the worst possible way, and he is suffering the consequences.”
“My uncle has been ruined,” Elaine said, glaring at Shayles. “He is in prison for attempting to tamper with the election, but we both know he wasn’t the only one involved in the plot. He wasn’t even the instigator.” She glanced to Denbigh.
Rather than be intimidated by her accusatory hints, Shayles laughed. “Do you really think titled men are ever held responsible for their actions? Your uncle was a nobody, not even a baron.” He sniffed, brushing his sleeve as if ridding himself of any taint his association with Turpin left him with. “He was a jumped-up tradesman who managed to rise as far as he could before falling. And he did fall.” He fixed Elaine with a hard stare.
In fact, Turpin had been the sole party found guilty of any wrongdoing after the crown’s investigation into the plot Elaine had revealed to the queen. Basil was certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that Shayles had been the mastermind and that Denbigh’s roll was larger than Turpin’s, but neither man had been more than mentioned in passing in the investigation that followed. It was true that Turpin’s life as he’d known it was over. He wouldn’t be able to show his face again in London, let alone politics. But Shayles continued to walk free.
“The pursuit of justice won’t end with Turpin,” Basil said, fighting to remain calm and to project power and strength. “Your day will come.”
Shayles laughed, his lip curling in a sneer. “You really think that, don’t you?” He shook his head as though Basil had insisted the moon were made of cheese.
“Mark my words, Shayles,” Malcolm growled. “This isn’t over between the two of us.”
Shayles arched a thin, pale brow at Malcolm, but before the argument could continue, Denbigh cleared his throat. The man had gone pale and splotchy and looked as though he might soil himself. “This isn’t really the time or the place,” he whispered, glancing around and likely seeing how outnumbered he was.
“But the time and the place will come,” Shayles said, staring at Malcolm. His glance shifted to Katya. “Won’t it, Lady Stanhope?”
Katya pulled herself to her full height and glared back at him without giving Shayles the satisfaction of a verbal reply.
“Come along, Gatwick. We’ve outstayed our welcome,” Shayles said, turning to leave.
Gatwick turned to Alex. “Where did you get your Constable? I’ve never seen one of such quality outside of a museum.”
“Gatwick,” Shayles snapped over his shoulder as he walked away.
“Some other time,” Gatwick said, his voice hoarse. For a fleeting
moment, Basil was certain he saw nothing but pure hatred in the man’s eyes as he turned to follow Shayles.
“Honestly, Alex,” Katya said once their group was alone again. “I understand the satisfaction of rubbing it in the man’s nose by inviting him here, but he’ll make all the wine turn sour.”
“Well, I don’t care about Lord Shayles one bit,” Elaine said, smiling again as though she were tired of the tension. “I have more important things to think about. I see my friend, Lady Lavinia has been invited.”
“Did you invite Lord Prior as well?” Katya asked Alex indignantly.
Alex grinned sheepishly and shrugged. “So there were a few other noses I wanted to rub in it.”
“Please excuse me while I have a word with Lavinia,” Elaine said, handing Basil her wine glass and nodding to his friends before hurrying off.
Basil sent his friends an apologetic look and went with her as Armand asked, “Who is Lady Lavinia?”
Elaine picked up her pace as she drew closer to Lady Lavinia, a wide smile spreading across her face. “Lavinia, I’m so happy to see you.”
Basil was certain she would have thrown herself into Lady Lavinia’s arms, no matter who was watching. But before she could, Lady Prior stepped forward, blocking her daughter from view entirely.
“You will not have any contact with my daughter,” she said bluntly.
Elaine stopped short, her mouth dropping open. “But Lavinia is my friend.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Bond,” Lady Lavinia said, leaning to the side one way and then the other in an attempt to be seen around her mother’s bulk.
“It’s the Countess of Waltham now,” Basil informed both women in his deepest, most authoritative voice, though the fact that he held a glass of wine in each hand likely didn’t help his attempt at appearing strong.
“She could be the Duchess of York for all I care,” Lady Prior hissed. “After her egregious behavior at Lady Spencer’s recital and being scolded by the queen herself, no daughter of mine will have anything to do with her.”
“Are you her mother or her jailor, Lady Prior?” Elaine asked, indignant.
If he’d had a free hand, Basil would have laid it on her shoulder to calm her. As it was, all he could do was clear his throat.
“I can…Mother can’t…we could….” Lady Lavinia attempted to speak to Elaine, but every sentence she started was blocked as her mother continued to shift and sidestep in an attempt to prevent any contact at all. “We’ll think of something,” Lady Lavinia said at last as her mother turned toward her and pushed her into backing away.
“You can’t do that,” Elaine started to shout at Lady Prior. She gave up with a huff. “We will think of something.”
The two of them stood where they were in the crowded ballroom, watching Lady Lavinia as she was dragged off like a disobedient child. Basil’s gut burned with the injustice of it all, but in a strange way, Lady Prior’s horrific behavior inspired him. As soon as Parliament was back in session, he would convince Elaine that he was needed in London, in the House of Lords, to battle against laws that enabled a parent to treat her grown daughter that way. Not that Elaine would greet the news of his desire to spend time in London enthusiastically.
“Ursula Prior is up to her old tricks, is she?” Katya said, joining them.
“I don’t like that woman,” Elaine said.
“Neither do I,” Katya laughed humorlessly. “But rest assured, my dear, if you and Lady Lavinia would like to maintain a correspondence, I would be happy to assist.”
Elaine brightened as she turned to Katya. “You could deliver letters between us?”
“As easily as I roll out of bed in the morning,” Katya replied with a smile. “I have a feeling a time will be coming when Lavinia Prior will need all the friends she can get.”
The ominous statement ate at Basil. He hated seeing any woman in distress, but anything that happened to Lady Lavinia would affect Elaine deeply.
“Come back to the party,” he said, all the same, handing Elaine her wine glass. “We have so much to celebrate.”
“We certainly do,” Elaine said with a resigned sigh. It shifted quickly into a smile. “We have a whole lifetime of joy to celebrate. And after this whole experience, I have so much more to say of a political nature.”
“Do you?” Basil wasn’t sure if he should be delighted or horrified.
“Absolutely.” Elaine nodded, looping her arm through his. “I’m a countess now, after all. And if a countess speaks out in favor of sensible ways of dressing and the importance of education for women, people are bound to listen, aren’t they?”
Basil laughed. “We’ll see.” If he had any delusions that his life would be calm and relaxed now that he and Elaine were husband and wife, they were vanishing in a hurry. Life with Elaine would keep him forever on his toes, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Epilogue
Parties in London were grand, but Elaine much preferred parties in Brynthwaite. Particularly when she was the one hosting at her own, marvelous estate.
“When Basil first brought me here to Morningside Landing, I couldn’t believe that it would be ours,” she told Rose, June Lakes, and Agatha Crimpley as she showed them the splashing fountain in the back garden. “And we still won’t be able to move in properly until next spring, what with all the updates Basil has commissioned.”
“Is it true that he’s having twelve water-closets put in?” June asked in amazement.
“Not just water-closets,” Elaine said, giddy with excitement. “Full bathrooms with bathtubs and water-closets. It will be so convenient to have a bathroom in the nursery,” she went on, wondering if her friends would catch the hint she was giving them.
“The nursery?” Aggie exclaimed with a smile.
Elaine nodded, unable to keep her joy inside. She giggled and pressed a hand to her belly. “Of course, it was bound to happen sooner rather than later, all things considered.”
Rose squealed and hugged her, and Aggie’s cheeks flushed bright red, but June merely rolled her eyes. “Men are incorrigible.”
“Men are wonderful,” Elaine countered her with a happy sigh. “You just need to find the right one.”
June hugged herself, suddenly gloomy. “As if I’ll ever have the opportunity to look.”
“You never know,” Aggie said. “Sometimes the right man finds you.” She glanced out over the lawn full of Brynthwaite guests, spotted something, and blushed.
Elaine rushed to see what—or rather who—had caught her eye. To her surprise, Andrew—who had done a wonderful job of maintaining the bookshop in her and Basil’s absence—glanced toward them with a smile of his own. He was clearly feasting on the sight of Aggie, but when he caught Elaine watching him, he smiled and nodded to her.
“He’s a lovely man,” Elaine whispered. “Well done.”
Aggie made a hopeless sound and chewed her lip. “My father would never let me walk out with a black man,” she sighed.
“My father and brothers would never let me walk out at all,” June echoed her sigh.
Elaine shook her head, shared a conspiratorial look with Rose, and planted her hands on her hips. “I simply will not stand for defeatism like that. If Basil and I can find a way to be together, then you will each find your own true loves as well.”
“Are you gossiping about me again, my love?” Basil asked, striding toward her across the lawn. He carried a weathered envelope in his hand that he presented to her, along with a kiss, when he reached her side.
“I’m always gossiping about you,” she said, defying all rules of propriety by looking at him with undisguised desire. “You’re my favorite thing to gossip about.”
“Ladies, please don’t listen to a word my darling wife says,” Basil told the others with an overly formal bow.
“I find it delightful,” Rose said, clasping a hand to her heart. “I always did want the two of you to be together in the end.”
“We all did,” June added. She touc
hed Aggie’s arm and nodded to Rose. The three of them hurried off, giving Elaine and Basil a moment alone.
“We’re not very good at behaving like an earl and a countess, are we?” Elaine asked as she watched them go. “I shudder to think what the May Flowers would think of the company we keep.”
“I rather like the company we keep,” Basil answered, nodding to Ted Folley, who was watching June with an entire epic poem’s worth of longing in his eyes. “Have you heard from any of your May Flower friends recently?” he asked.
“Lady Tavistock wrote to me just the other day,” Elaine said. “She urges me to continue regaling her with tales of Brynthwaite. She says I have a knack for storytelling, and I have a way of making Brynthwaite seem like an ideal hamlet. Lady Royston writes much the same thing. And Lavinia.”
“That’s from Lavinia, by the way,” Basil nodded to the envelope he’d handed to her. “I thought you would want to see it right away.”
“You were right.”
Elaine tore into the envelope, eager to hear the latest from her friend. They had written almost daily from the moment Lady Stanhope had devised a system to ensure their letters could be delivered without the knowledge of Lady Prior. But it had been more than a week since Elaine’s last letter from her friend. She’d begun to worry.
“Dearest Elaine,” she read aloud. “Forgive me for not writing sooner, but the last week has been a whirlwind. It all started with a misunderstanding at a ball and now, well, my friend, now I am married.” Elaine’s voice shot up as she read the last words. She lowered the letter and gaped at Basil. “Lavinia is married? She wasn’t even engaged last time she wrote to me.”
“Did the queen demand another sacrifice to the gods of matrimony?” Basil asked, sliding an arm around her waist and drawing her close.
For a moment, the letter and Lavinia’s surprise marriage was forgotten. “If she did, then I hope Lavinia will be as happy as I am now.”
The way Basil smiled at her—the unassuming bookseller whom she considered her closest friend and the grand earl mingled together—filled even the deepest corners of Elaine’s heart with joy. “I will always make you happy,” he said, stealing a kiss, even though they had an audience of guests. “I love you, Miss Bond, and I always will.”
