by Cheryl Bolen
"Oh, but your lordship, I meant no offense."
Once they left London's sooty skies behind them, Lord Slade opened the curtain on his side of the carriage. The vision of verdant meadows, reposing sheep, and clear blue skies overhead was enough to lift his spirits. He did enjoy going to the country.
A pity he wasn't going to someone else's country house. He had never loved Dunvale as his father had. For him, it had always represented decay and never-ending repairs that drained every cent in the family coffers.
"I find myself wondering if the natives can read English," Mr. Poppinbotham said. "If I could get my religious tracts and pamphlets circulated in a country as large as India, I'd have enough money to buy. . . Windsor Castle!"
Was money the only thing Poppinbotham ever spoke of? Lord Slade glared again. "I don't think Windsor Castle will ever be for sale."
"And I'm not altogether sure the natives can read or write in their native tongue, much less in English," Miss Featherstone added. "Though I'm sure those of the higher classes–a small number, I am told–are quite well educated."
"Glad I am that you've brought up illiteracy," Mr. Poppinbotham said, "for compulsory education is one of those matters you, my dear Miss Featherstone, told me I needed to acquaint myself with before I sit in Parliament."
"It is definitely one that a progressive man like yourself needs to embrace," she said.
How sly Miss Featherstone was! She was attempting to mold the Buffoon to her own progressive agenda. "So, as a progressive, Mr. Poppinbotham, I assume you favor compulsory education?"
"When I get in Parliament, I will most certainly promulgate opportunities for all Englishmen, regardless of their class, to learn how to read and write, and I assure you such a cause has never been motivated by the vast profit such a movement could be to my own publishing enterprises."
"How very commendable," Slade said.
"Surely you don't think even a chimney sweep needs to be taught to read?" an incredulous Lady Sarah asked, her mouth gaping open.
"I certainly do. Every child in the kingdom should have the opportunity to read Scripture," Poppinbotham answered.
"Well," said Lady Sarah, "I sponsor a Sunday school back at Stockton-on-Wye, but I think it a ridiculous extravagance to want to educate every child in the kingdom."
"You have been listening to your papa," Miss Featherstone said good naturedly.
Her intervention prevented Slade from saying something harsh to the woman he needed to marry.
A pity he could not think of Lady Sarah as the woman he wanted to marry.
Chapter 16
When she first beheld Dunvale Castle rising above the pastoral countryside of rolling hills in the mid-day sun, Miss Featherstone's thoughts flashed to knights of yore and maidens in wide silken skirts and headdresses snugly fitted over coiled tresses. It was a quintessentially English castle constructed of gray stone with turrets protruding from the corners of its crenellated roofline. Not terribly large, as castles go, but formidable and solid.
Like the present lord of the castle.
Her gaze flashed to Lord Slade. In his chocolate brown coat, buff breeches, and finely tanned boots, he was the very picture of masculinity. She could still feel the brush of his lips against her cheek all those days ago. She had been unable to purge him from her mind. Not since the night he had kissed her. Even though it wasn't a proper kiss and even though, to him, it was but a brotherly kiss, it was the only time a man had ever kissed her.
Nothing had ever so moved her. Joy had sung through her veins. Then reality had set in, and she was filled with a sense of profound loss. For the only man she could ever love was going to marry her cousin.
And Jane Featherstone would likely spend the rest of her life attached to a man whose kisses would never affect her as Lord Slade's had.
"Look at Dunvale, Sarah!" Miss Featherstone knew how much her cousin adored castles. That Lord Slade possessed a medieval castle would undoubtedly be one of the strongest recommendations for plighting her life to his.
The lady flicked open her curtain and peered at Dunvale Castle, wonderment sparkling in her sapphire eyes. "It's just what a proper castle should look like!" She turned to the man seated beside her. "Does it have a moat?"
"Not for the past two hundred years," his lordship said ruefully.
The lovely blonde smiled at him. "Well, I cannot tell you how excited I am that I'll actually be spending the night in a real castle."
"I am very happy to hear that," Lord Slade said. "Dunvale's very different from what it was in medieval times. During the last century we added outbuildings and formal gardens outside of the castle walls. My father was especially proud of the garden he had designed by Capability Brown, even if it was one of Mr. Brown's smallest projects."
"Then I daresay," Miss Featherstone interjected, "we shall find man-made waterways at Dunvale."
Lord Slade met her gaze, amusement flashing in his dark eyes. "Indeed you will. I see you know the hallmarks of a Capability Brown landscape."
"As you know, my lord, architecture–even landscape architecture–holds great interest for me."
"I hope you brought your drawing supplies," he said.
"Indeed I did, my lord."
Mr. Poppinbotham brushed up against her as he attempted to peer at their destination. "I declare, that's quite a fortress you've got there, my lord. Daresay it would set a man back a fortune to acquire something so grand."
Money again. Miss Featherstone gritted her teeth. Is that the only thing the man could discuss?
"I daresay it wouldn't matter how deep the buyer's pockets, it's not likely a castle that's not a complete ruin would ever come on the market." Lord Slade spoke as if he were talking to a child. "They're always in the entail, and even when there's no heir, they revert to the crown."
"I do know of several men of wealth who have built new castles," Miss Featherstone said. "And while Lord Cowper's Panshanger is not new and was never built as a castle, in his latest creation of it, he's added features that make it resemble a castle."
"I shouldn't at all like a mock castle," said Lady Sarah, scrunching up her perfect nose, "not when one could have something as alluring as Dunvale Castle."
The coach wheels rattled over the drawbridge, the castle's huge timber doors opening up for them as they rolled into the spacious bricked courtyard before stopping at an arched door. "I hope Dunvale Castle doesn't disappoint," Lord Slade said as the coachman assisted them from the carriage.
***
Lady Sarah's reaction to the castle was all Slade had hoped it would be. "Oh, look, the ceilings are so very high," she had exclaimed as soon as they entered the great room. "Has Dunvale truly been here ever since the Conquest?"
He nodded.
The lady then raced to the fireplace. "I declare, my lord, even a man as tall as you could stand here! It's frightfully massive."
At least she had noticed he was possessed of height above that of the average man. He was never really sure she paid the least shred of attention to him.
Like a toddler running in the fields, she flew from one feature to the next, snapping off questions and barely having the patience to wait for an response. Do you have suits of armor? How many hundreds of years since it was built? Look at the size of these stones!
She strolled from the great room and stopped dead in her stride as she gazed at the wide stone staircase. "Oh, look! One can almost picture an entire regiment of soldiers in suits of armor marching abreast up these."
A moment later, she said, "Pray, my lord, where will my chambers be?" She seemed incapable of removing her gaze from the broad steps that had worn smooth over the centuries.
Perhaps her attention had been captured by the large celestial tapestry which hung high on the curved stone wall there. He'd been told it was one of the most valuable possessions at Dunvale. "Actually, I'm not exactly certain where your chambers will be, my lady. My sisters will have made that determination. I daresay the rooms will be
in the family wing, which is a laborious climb three floors up."
"I shan't at all mind climbing these stairs. I feel as if I could be at King Arthur's court."
He chuckled just as his brother entered the chamber. Must David always wear his uniform? He looked entirely too much like the handsome hero of a romantic tale, the kind of tale he was certain Lady Sarah would enjoy.
"How good it is to welcome all of you to our home," Captain St. John said. He looked first at Miss Featherstone and bowed, then his eyes met Lady Sarah's and held.
Lord Slade facilitated the introductions between his brother and Poppinbotham, and minutes later repeated introductions when his sisters entered the huge, cold chamber.
"If I met you on Conduit Street," Lady Sarah said to the eldest of the three sisters, "I would immediately take you for sister to Captain St. John and Lord Slade. The family resemblance is very strong."
"I pray I look more feminine," Lady Mary Ann said with a laugh.
"Oh, indeed, you do. You're not at all tall, like your brothers, and you're exceedingly pretty." Then Lady Sarah turned her attention to the other sisters. "But I must own, the two of you look nothing like the others."
Lord Slade squashed his hand on top Lizzie's head and spoke good naturedly. "We always say Lizzie's the runt of the litter."
"Just wait," Lizzie challenged, "I'll catch up with my sisters."
"I'm afraid, Pet," said the middle sister, Lady Diana, who was the only blonde in the family, "that may not happen. You're fourteen now. Mary Ann and I were fully grown by the time we were your age."
"It's amazing to me how different the three of you are," Miss Featherstone said. Her gaze flicked to their eldest brother. "You must be very proud of your lovely sisters."
He nodded as his gaze fanned over his sisters. "I hope I do not flatter myself that as each of them is presented, they will receive many offers of marriage. Not that I ever wish to be rid of them."
"Put that in the betting book at White's, and you could make some blunt," Captain St. John said.
Lord Slade's lips curved into a smile. "No I could not. No man would be foolish enough to take the bet."
Mr. Poppinbotham loudly cleared his throat. "Glad I am that I've no sisters I have to dower."
Money again. The crass man had broached the one subject Slade wished to avoid. Even though Lady Sarah was bound to know he needed to marry an heiress, he hated to be obvious about it. Every lady should believe a man courted her for herself, not her money. He stiffened. "Oh, but Poppinbotham, I could never regret these delightful creatures."
Captain St. John put his arm around Lizzie. "Nor could I. It's great fun having younger sisters to tease."
"How fortunate all of you are to have grown up in a real castle," Lady Sarah said. "All my life I've adored castles."
"Has my brother shown you the priest's hole?" Captain St. John asked the lady.
Her hands flew to her dimpled cheeks as a sunny smile brightened her face. "You have a priest's hole at Dunvale?"
"Indeed we do," David answered, holding out his hand. "Allow me to show it to you."
The two of them disappeared around the corner.
A pity Lady Sarah was always so shy in his own presence. He wished she adopted with him the easy camaraderie she and David shared. Those two got along quite like an affectionate brother and sister, which, he supposed, was a good thing, seeing as how they would be brother and sister if his plan succeeded.
Good manners dictated that Slade offer to show the priest hole to his other guests. "Should you care to see it, Miss Featherstone? Mr. Poppinbotham?"
"I should love to," Miss Featherstone said.
"Pray, my lord," Poppinbotham said, "you must explain to me about these priest holes. Am I to understand you–or your ancestors–shoved priests down a hole?"
Slade chuckled. "Ours isn't a proper hole, as you'll see, but, yes, my ancestors most certainly did hide priests after the Dissolution."
When they reached the dining room, David was demonstrating how to open the priest's hole. David, who had always been fascinated by Dunvale's priest hole, tapped at the movable panel in the center of the wood-paneled wall, and one of a series of vertical oak boards opened as if it were on hinges. The space behind the board was actually a small, windowless stone room. The opening was so narrow, a large man like Slade would not be able to squeeze into the secret chamber.
An excited Lady Sarah raced through the opening, giggling like a child. "So this is where the priests used to hide! How vastly interesting."
"It is said our ancestor, Sir Matthew St. John, defied Henry VIII and kept his Papist faith," Slade explained when she came back out.
"Indeed," David expanded, "it was not until the third generation into the Tudor regime– after the baronetcy had turned into an earldom–that the Slade family fully embraced the Church of England."
As they spent the afternoon exploring the castle, it occurred to Slade that his brother's interest in the ancestral pile far exceeded his own. A pity David hadn't been the first born.
Chapter 17
At sweet Miss Featherstone's request, Slade allowed Lizzie to sit at the dinner table that evening. His youngest sister took her place at the table between Miss Featherstone and Diana. "I am very indebted to you," Lizzie said to Miss Featherstone, "for asking that I be allowed to dine with you. Are you aware that this is the first time I've ever sat here?"
If he was not mistaken, Miss Featherstone often wore the same mint green dress as she wore tonight. Though it was limp and faded, it was not unbecoming on her.
"I was not, but I hope that every time you sit here over the course of your life, you will remember with affection our stay here."
"Oh, you may be sure of it!" Lizzie glanced across the table and addressed Lady Sarah. "And I shall always remember that you were not only the prettiest lady I've ever seen but also the most fashionably dressed."
"Indeed," Diana said, her own covetous gaze whisking over the lady's elegant lavender gown. "It is exciting for hermits like us to see a reigning London beauty who has such an eye for all that is fashionable."
"La! Lady Diana, you shall put me to the blush." He could have liked a bit more modesty in his prospective wife. Lady Sarah easily accepted lavish compliments and adoration as her due.
Those at the table busied themselves filling their plates with sturgeon and French beans and passing the bowls of pickled beets and creamed potatoes.
He could not have been more pleased over the dinner. He did not know how she had contrived it, but Mary Ann had seen to it that the normally gloomy chamber was so brightly lit. It nearly looked like daytime from four braces of candelabras on the long table.
He never failed to admire the Slade family china which bore the family's heavily gilded stag crest.
"I understand, Mr. Poppinbotham," Lady Mary Ann said, "that you plan to stand for Parliament." Leave it to his most serious-minded sister to steer conversation back to matters other than fashion and beauty.
"Indeed I do . . ." He turned to Miss Featherstone, who sat next to him. "Miss Featherstone is attempting to educate me. This lady is possessed of uncommon intelligence as well as an extraordinary breadth of knowledge on political theory." His attention returned to Lady Mary Ann. "And your estimable brother has been invaluable."
"Then I daresay my brother's got you reading Rousseau," Mary Ann mused.
The Buffoon shrugged. "I shall need to compile a reading list."
"One cannot read Rousseau and not Voltaire," Lord Slade said.
Miss Featherstone set a hand to Poppinbotham's sleeve. "And you must read John Paine."
How remarkable that she would recommend Paine. "My own political philosophy was more influenced by Paine than by any other writer," Lord Slade said.
Miss Featherstone turned toward him. "Then, my lord, I daresay you must admire Edmund Burke's writings."
It was remarkable how much Miss Featherstone's thinking mirrored his own. "I cannot praise the man highly
enough." He turned to Poppinbotham. "I urge you to read him, too."
"How fortunate I am to have your lordship offer such sage guidance."
Lord Slade shrugged, then made eye contact with Miss Featherstone again. "As you know, I believe your father is the best orator in the House of Commons today. Listening to him is one of my greatest pleasures. One of my greatest regrets, though, is that I never got to hear Burke."
She favored him with a smile. "It's the very same with me, my lord! Papa cannot speak highly enough of Mr. Burke's abilities as a speaker who used such perfect logic--though he did not always agree with him."
He nodded. "I understand he and Charles James Fox were two of the finest speakers ever on the floor of House of Commons."
Mary Ann addressed him. "I remember how excited you were that time you came down from Eton just to hear an oration by Charles James Fox. You were barely seventeen."
"I'm very glad I did." His lips folded into a grim line. "Within a year he was dead."
"My father was completely distraught over his death," Miss Featherstone added.
"I beg you not to talk of death or politics anymore," Lady Sarah said, turning her attention to David. "You must tell us of your adventures in India, Captain St. John."
David shrugged. "I fear, my lady, that my sisters would attempt to strangle me were I to accommodate your request."
"Indeed," Diana said. "We have heard the same stories scores of times."
David addressed Lady Sarah once more. "Perhaps tomorrow you will do me the goodness of allowing me to share some of my tales from India."
"I should love it above all things," she said, smiling shyly at him.
"Then after breakfast, I'll take you for a walk outside the castle grounds."
Mary Ann, a natural hostess, redirected the conversation, this time asking Mr. Poppinbotham about his business.
* * *
After dinner Miss Featherstone played the pianoforte in the more intimate drawing room where the cold stone floors were covered with thick Turkey carpets, the windows were draped in red velvet, and a fire blazed in the more modestly sized hearth. Despite that it was in a castle, this room had a comforting quality. She thought that could also be attributed to the blocks of dark wood paneling which sheathed the walls. The wood was so dark from age it had turned almost black.
