by Jane Goodger
“That’s because I’d never been in love before. It’s easy to swear you will never marry if you’ve never been in love.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “And if it makes you feel any better, Henderson is quite wealthy.”
“So I’ve been told. By more than one person in this family. It appears you are all conspiring against me in this. Somehow you’ve even won over your mother.”
Alice smiled. Her father’s words were like seeing a slice of sunshine splitting the clouds after a long rain. Waving her hand dismissively, she said, “Mama was easy to convince. She’s always adored Henderson. I think she just wanted to please you.”
“Hmm.” Alice held her breath, sensing that her father was about to make some sort of pronouncement. “You may have Henderson visit with me later today if you’d like.”
“Oh, Papa,” Alice said, leaning into him and giving him a long embrace. If he’d been well, she would have flung herself atop him, but she feared she might hurt him if she did that now. “You have no idea how happy you have made me.”
He let out a grunt, and Alice chose to take that sound as one of pleasure, not regret. “I cannot wait to tell Henderson the news. Thank you, Papa.”
She sailed from the room, and her father watched her depart, a fond look on his face, for it truly was impossible to remain angry at Alice for any length of time.
* * *
Henderson arrived in time for tea, and Mrs. Godfrey, having somehow learned he would be coming for a visit, served his favorite, cherry tarts. Elda, Christina, Oliver, and Alice sat expectantly when he entered the parlor, and used to being treated as a member of the family, he nearly laughed at the formal way they each greeted him.
“Thank you for inviting me,” he said to Elda.
“Thank you for coming. Lord Hubbard is still not well enough to join us, but has requested an interview after we’ve finished with tea.”
Henderson glanced over at Alice, who sat stiff and still, the oddest look on her face, as if she were bursting with some news but was unable to express it. The note inviting him to tea that afternoon had arrived at his hotel earlier that day, a cryptic message in the neat handwriting of Lady Hubbard. He’d studied the invitation for long minutes, not knowing quite what to make of it. Had Alice told her mother what had happened last night? Had something happened between the time he had left her standing on the terrace and the time her mother had written the note?
This formal greeting confused him even more. Everyone seemed happy enough to see him, and he could see no censor in Lady Hubbard’s expression, but it was clear that something was up.
“Is Lord Hubbard well?” he asked, because he wasn’t supposed to know he was doing much better.
“As well as can be expected,” Elda said, and Alice gave her mother a look of disbelief.
“He’s doing much better,” Alice said. “Things are looking very positive.”
Henderson was about to take his first bite of cherry tart, and he paused, staring at Alice, who pressed her lips together and looked at him with eyes full of what could only be described as pure happiness. He put the tart down, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe. “That is good to hear,” he said finally, then sat back as the meaning of his visit fully hit him. He was here to ask Lord Hubbard’s permission to marry Alice.
“Are you all right?” Oliver asked. “You look suddenly ill.”
“Quite the opposite, in fact. I do not believe I have ever felt better in my life.” He looked over to Elda, who’d been sitting across from him with a rather stern expression, and couldn’t help but notice she was smiling at him fondly with that old look that had always comforted him, always made him feel welcome. By God, if he’d been alone, he just might have wept.
“Well, I’m done with tea,” he announced, then glanced at his favorite treat, nearly untouched on his plate. “I expect I shall have a visit with his lordship now.”
He stood and the small group all followed suit, staring at him expectantly. Christina looked especially adorable, for it was clear she also knew the purpose of his visit. Henderson left the parlor, and a footman led him to Lord Hubbard’s room, even though he knew the way, another strange formality that only served to increase his nervousness. Surely he wouldn’t have been invited to tea if Lord Hubbard was going to reject his suit.
The footman entered the room in front of him and announced him. “Mr. Henderson Southwell to see you, my lord.”
“Send him in.”
At least Lord Hubbard sounded well and strong. And when Henderson got his first look at the man, he was vastly relieved to see him looking as he always had. He was sitting up in bed, wearing a robe over his night clothes, his hair neatly combed and his face freshly shaved. Lord Hubbard had prepared for this meeting, it seemed, and Henderson was glad he’d taken extra care with his own appearance.
“It is good to see you well, my lord,” Henderson said. “I want to apologize for any part I may have had in your illness. You should know it has been a heavy burden on me these last few days.”
Richard waved a dismissive hand. “I am on the mend.” Richard gave Henderson a hard, long look, and it took quite a bit of discipline not to squirm or look away. “My daughter believes herself in love with you.”
“For which I am eternally grateful. And I very much love Alice. I have for a long time, sir. I realize I do not have the pedigree you wish for in a son-in-law, but I am here to ask your permission for your daughter’s hand in marriage.” He let out a small breath of relief that he’d been able to get out the words without stumbling.
“What of India?”
“I must go back and complete my mission there, but then I will return to England and stay. I would like Alice to come with me as my wife.”
Lord Hubbard frowned at that, but he nodded. “Very well. You have my permission.”
The relief at hearing those words was profound. “Thank you, sir.”
“You have proven yourself a gentleman, more than once, Mr. Southwell. You have withstood my wrath, my disappointment in you, my doubts. And by doing so, you have gained my admiration. I think my daughter is a lucky girl to have found someone like you.”
Henderson swallowed thickly. “Thank you, sir. You have been a good example to me over the years.”
“Now go tell my daughter her father isn’t the ogre she thinks he is.”
Henderson grinned and held out his hand for Lord Hubbard to shake. “I will, sir. Thank you.”
Never in his life had Henderson felt as happy as he felt at that moment. It was almost beyond belief that he would finally have his Alice, forever. She would be his wife, the mother to their children. She would lie with him every night and he would wake up to her soft smile every morning. To be accepted, finally, was a gift he’d never thought to own. He flew down the stairs, propriety be damned, because he couldn’t wait to tell Alice the good news, even though he knew she suspected such a happy outcome. If he’d known what the tea invitation had been all about, he would have taken the time to purchase a ring. Having nothing, he stole a tiny white flower and stem from a flower arrangement and tied it into a small circle.
The family was still in the parlor, speaking in hushed tones, when he entered. He was grinning like a madman, so it must be evident that the interview with Lord Hubbard had gone well. As one, except for Alice, they left the room, Oliver patting him heartily on the back as he passed.
Alice had stood when he’d entered, but sat down with an audible flump as he approached. When he reached the chair, he dropped to one knee and she let out a small, happy sob.
“Alice Hubbard, I have loved you for as long as I can remember. Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
With one hand pressed against her mouth, her eyes brimming with tears, she nodded. Then he took her hand in his and slipped on the silly little flower ring, making her giggle. “It’s lovely,” she said, gazing down at it as if he’d just handed her the largest diamond she’d ever seen.
Henderson stood, drawing her up with him, and pulled her into his embrace. “I shall get you the most beautiful ring I can find,” he said, and he could feel her shaking her head.
“I like this one.”
He chuckled. “Good, because that is all I have at the moment. This entire day was completely unexpected. However did you manage to convince your father?”
“I didn’t have to. My mother did. And my sister and brother. He does like you, Henderson. It’s just difficult for him to give up on traditions.”
“I am heartily glad he came around.” He bent his head and kissed her long and hard, sighing when he realized her mother could return at any time. He did not want either of her parents catching him ravishing their daughter again.
Chapter 19
The day of their wedding, Henderson made sure he arrived well in advance of the bride. His grandfather thought him ridiculous, but Henderson was taking no chance of worrying Alice. When she arrived, he sent his grandfather to tell her that he was already there, waiting in the wings, to see her walk down the aisle of the small church in the center of St. Ives.
Lord Berkley was his best man and Oliver his groomsman, and he knew Joseph was there in spirit.
“Are you ready, lad?” his grandfather asked gruffly.
“As ready as a man can be to wed,” he said.
“You’ve done well for yourself, boy. Your grandmother and I could not be prouder.”
Henderson knew everything he had in life was because his grandparents had made sacrifices on his behalf. He would not have gone to Eton, he would not have met Joseph, and he would not be marrying Alice if not for the love and support they’d given him his entire life. From his vantage point, he could see his grandmother, looking nervously about, no doubt feeling a bit out of place among some of the dignitaries in the room, which included the Duke of Warwick himself. Alice had tried to convince her grandfather that he need not attend yet another of her weddings, but the old duke insisted, saying that he would never forgive himself if he missed her actually get married.
“I want you to know how grateful I am for all you and Grandmother have done.”
“’Twas nothing.” His words were gruff, but Henderson could tell his grandfather was pleased. “Just don’t go thinking you’re better than you are.”
Henderson had to laugh, for all his life his grandparents had made him believe he was better than he was, that he had every right to go to Eton, to Oxford, to spend summers with the aristocracy. “I will never be a better man than you, Grandfather, though I will try.”
His grandfather chuckled. “I’ll go sit with your grandmother and give her some courage. She looks about to faint.”
Henderson watched him go, his heart swelling. He truly had been blessed with his grandparents, and that his mother wasn’t there and he didn’t even know who his father was meant nothing today.
When the organ began to play, Lord Berkley and Oliver came up beside him and Oliver slapped his back. “Are you ready?” his soon-to-be brother-in-law asked.
“I am.”
“Don’t die, don’t run off, and I think we’ll all get through this fine.”
Henderson was laughing as he walked to the front of the church and waited to see his bride. The church was packed and outside in the street, he could hear the rumble of the small crowd of spectators who had gathered to wish the couple well—and to get a glimpse of a duke and an earl, the grandfathers of the bride.
It had been two months since Lord Hubbard had given his permission for them to marry, and since that time, Henderson had hardly had the chance to kiss Alice, never mind make love. While it had been torture, they had agreed to act like a proper engaged couple, though Henderson had managed to sneak in a few kisses along the way.
When Henderson got his first glimpse of her, he held his breath, she was that beautiful. Her gown was emerald green, the same green as her eyes, and was something a princess might wear in a fairy tale. Never had a bride looked as lovely as Alice did, walking toward him, a smile on her face that told him she was as happy as he.
Lord Hubbard handed over his daughter with a wink and a smile, and even that small gesture had Henderson fighting back tears.
The ceremony was short, the cheers afterward heartwarming. As they stood before the congregation, hand in hand, now Mr. and Mrs. Southwell, Henderson gave a look to heaven and silently thanked Joseph, who he knew was up there watching and probably cheering just as madly as the rest of them.
Alice leaned over, and he ducked his head so he could hear her whisper.
“My gown is too tight. Around the belly.”
Henderson dumbly looked at her tiny waist, his brows furrowed. “You look lovely to me,” he said, and was surprised when Alice laughed.
“Around my belly, Henderson.” She widened her eyes as if to say, Are you a dunce?
Well, he must be because he had no idea what—
“No.”
She nodded her head and her eyes filled with tears. “Yes. Aunt Agatha is going to have another interesting entry in her family tree in about seven months.”
Then, in front of the entire congregation, who still stood and clapped and looked at them with smiles and misty eyes, Henderson kissed his wife senseless, propriety be damned.
Epilogue
Lord Berkley prepared for long hours for his first speech before the House of Lords, only to find out, not two weeks prior, that the monsoons had returned to India and now after two years of drought, the general feeling, even among those who supported relief efforts, was that it was no longer needed.
“I’m more relieved that I can express,” Berkley said. He had invited the Southwells to stay in his home while he and Henderson were in London preparing for the speech. It was a moderate townhouse in Cavendish Square, and Berkley mentioned more than one time that he felt suffocated in London. “I spent too much time in the American West to feel comfortable in a city ever again. I cannot find enough air to breathe.”
Henderson had left India before the monsoons had arrived, and was unaware that the long-awaited rain had returned. Even had he known, the news would not have altered his mission, for he knew, as the general population of England did not, that one year of rain could not help the ongoing starvation. Food prices remained high, and those with land had nothing to farm with, having sold off every animal, every bit of equipment, in a futile effort to keep their families fed.
As proof, he had a letter from Dr. Cornish, expressing his deep frustration with the government as millions of Indians continued to suffer. Their cause, he’d written with deep regret, was a lost one. Even Henderson realized the futility of asking for relief when the vast majority of people wholeheartedly believed relief had already come in the form of much needed rain. It was Dr. Cornish’s letter, more than anything, that made the decision not to press the issue of relief to a group of men who were unlikely to change their minds, even had Berkley given his impassioned speech. Quite a large number of the House of Lords had attended the durbar pronouncing Queen Victoria Empress of India, a lavish and long affair that hardly bespoke a nation suffering from starvation. Nonetheless, it was the most difficult decision of Henderson’s life.
“Will you be returning to St. Ives, then?” Alice asked Lord Berkley. “I miss it already.”
Indeed, despite his disappointment that all his efforts were for naught, Henderson had been relieved to hear they would be staying in England, for Alice was already showing.
“As soon as physically possible. In fact, I will bid you good evening and farewell, as I plan to leave on the first train tomorrow morning. Stay here as long as you wish. In fact, buy the place, for I have no wish ever to return.”
Henderson laughed uncomfortably, for his friend sounded unusually bitter and he wondered if his pronouncement had something to do with his late wife. The décor, he realized, was much the same as Costille.
Once Berkley had departed, Henderson drew Alice against him.
He always found it difficult not to touch her and cursed the dictates of society that prevented him from constantly caressing her. After two weeks of marriage, he still could not believe she was his wife, that he could make love to her any time he liked, that she was as willing as he was to shed her clothes and take him into her. That she was carrying his child. How could a man be so blessed?
For so long, it seemed as though fate were conspiring against him, and now all was falling into place with frightening ease. A large and handsome house in St. Ives that Henderson had long admired, one overlooking the sea with an impressive plot of land, had become available, and Henderson’s offer was immediately accepted. Gerald Grant, once confronted by Robert Bennet, confessed, then, sadly, took his own life, freeing Alice of any concern that he might harm Henderson.
“I’m ready to go home as well,” Henderson said, dipping his head and stealing a kiss.
“I like the sound of that. Home. Our home. I still cannot believe we are married. Each morning I wake up and have to pinch myself.”
Henderson chuckled. “When are you going to tell your mother about our little one?”
She bit her lip. “I suppose I’ll have to say something when we return. It’s getting rather obvious. Perhaps I can say I ate too much cake in London.”
“You have been eating rather a lot of cake,” he said, pretending to consider her idea.
She batted him playfully. “I cannot help it if my daughter likes cake as much as I do.”
“Daughter?”
“Or son. You do have a bit of a sweet tooth yourself.”
“We shall have to steal Mrs. Godfrey away so she can make tarts daily.”
That night, after Berkley’s efficient servants had packed their belongings, Alice went to her well-organized trunk and pulled out a large rosewood box, running her fingers over its surface lightly. With a small flick of one finger, a secret drawer opened up and Alice pulled out a key.
