Lord Kane's Keepsake

by Sandra Heath

  She said nothing more about the Countess of Purbeck, but she thought about her a great deal. What on earth could have caused such deep ill feeling? It was evident that Stephen wasn’t going to explain anything, but whatever it was had to be very serious indeed for him to adopt such a position of implacable dislike. And what would cause the countess to wish to belittle his sister?

  Emma puzzled about it as she and Stephen strolled toward the northwest corner of the square, where North Audley Street led to Oxford Street, and Upper Brook Street led west toward Park Lane and Hyde Park. Upper Brook Street. Emma’s steps faltered a little as they reached the corner, and she looked along the street that seemed to have some mysterious connection with Gerald.

  It was a handsome road, a place of fine mansions and high garden walls over which hung the branches of exotic ornamental trees. Beyond the walls she could hear the gentle splashing of fountains, the cooing of doves, and the occasional calls of peacocks.

  The sun shone brightly on gleaming windows and brass door knockers, and upon the panels and accoutrements of the handsome private carriages that passed to and fro along the exclusive cobbled way. This was Mayfair at its most elegant, a place where only the most superior of persons would have their addresses, and it beckoned almost irresistibly to Emma, whose inquisitiveness had been aroused by Stephen’s strange reaction the evening before.

  At the far end of the street, across Park Lane, she could see the trees of Hyde Park, their leaves already showing the early tints of autumn, and she came to a sudden decision. “Stephen, don’t let’s go to Oxford Street, let’s walk to Park Lane instead. If I remember accurately from the street map that I studied so much before leaving Foxley Hall, we can walk down Park Lane and then back along Upper Grosvenor Square, and complete a comfortable circle home.”

  Stephen shrugged. “As you wish, although I would have thought the lure of shops would prove too great for you.”

  “Not this morning. I’ll be content with just a good walk in the fresh air.”

  They turned west, continuing their leisurely stroll along the pavement of Upper Brook Street. The soft breeze stirred gently through the foliage hanging over the garden walls, and something startled a flock of doves so that they rose in a flutter from an unseen dovecote, their wings very clean and white against the blue of the sky.

  Emma glanced all around as they walked. She studied fine mansion after fine mansion, but there was nothing unusual about any of them. She didn’t really know what she expected to see, she only knew that there was something significant about this street, and that it concerned the man she was to marry. She glanced surreptitiously at her brother, but he seemed totally unconcerned, and certainly gave no hint of anything untoward; he even whistled softly to himself, his cane swinging to and fro.

  They reached the end of the street, and the bustle and noise of Park Lane. In Hyde Park, the “lungs” of London, carriages bowled along Rotten Row, and horsemen and women rode their mounts in the daily display performed by the beau monde.

  Stephen paused, pointing with his cane. “You and I will have to ride there soon, Sis. There’s an excellent livery stable in South Audley Street where we can hire suitable mounts. Would you like that?”

  She smiled. “You know full well that I adore riding, Stephen Rutherford.”

  “It’s settled, then. We’ll go one morning, before breakfast, and then you’ll come back ravenous and eat properly.”

  “I hope you’re right,” she replied.

  Before they turned south along Park Lane, she glanced back along Upper Brook Street, but it all seemed so innocent and quiet, and Stephen’s attitude was now one of such unconcern that she began to think she had imagined it the evening before after all.

  They had almost reached the corner of Upper Grosvenor Street, and the final part of their circular tour, when something made her suddenly turn to look at the traffic approaching from behind along Park Lane. Her gaze was drawn immediately to a travel-stained carriage drawn by a team of four exquisitely matched bays, for the coachman chose that moment to crack his whip to encourage the horses to come up to a smarter pace at the end of what had evidently been a rather long stage for them.

  The carriage held Emma’s attention, and she watched as it drove past. Her gaze was drawn immediately to the crest of the door, for it was the Fitzroy phoenix. Her lips parted, and she looked inside, catching a fleeting glimpse of an elderly gentleman wrapped up as warmly against the autumn chill as her father had been the day before. Who else could it be but Gerald’s grandfather, the Earl of Cranforth, who was leaving the seclusion at Cranforth Castle in Derbyshire in order to attend his grandson’s betrothal celebration?

  She clutched Stephen’s arm. “Look, I’m sure that is the Earl of Cranforth!” she said, indicating the carriage.

  “Eh?”

  “The Earl of Cranforth,” she said again, watching as the carriage drove on down Park Lane. “If it turns into the drive of Cranforth House, then it can indeed only be he,” she murmured.

  Sure enough, on reaching the first of the Cranforth House gates, the carriage slowed and turned in through them.

  Stephen grinned at her. “So, the old boy has arrived to give his blessing to your match.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “I suppose this signals another rush of the jitters on your part?”

  “Don’t tease me, Stephen, for I do indeed feel wretchedly nervous about all this.”

  He put his arm gently around her shoulder. “Don’t fret so, Sis, for you’ll make an excellent Lady Kane, and when the time eventually comes for you to become the Countess of Cranforth, you’ll carry the day with all the aplomb of the Rutherfords. And by then, I vow you’ll have your husband eating out of your dainty hand.”

  Emma said nothing. She would never win Gerald’s heart, not when the ghost of his adored Margot would always be there to trounce her.

  Chapter Six

  That afternoon, when Stephen was out and Mr. Rutherford was still in his bed, Emma sat at the escritoire in the drawing room, endeavoring to write some letters to her friends in Dorchester. Her hand trembled a little as she wrote, and the words did not flow easily from her pen, for she was far too preoccupied.

  She wore a delicate pale-pink woolen gown with a lace-filled neckline and long sleeves that were frilled at the wrists, and her glossy dark hair was tied loosely back with a pink ribbon, for she found it comfortable and a little more relaxing that way. A headache had threatened for some time now, and Dolly had prepared a marjoram balm which she had applied to her forehead and temples.

  To be as certain as possible that all had been done to stave off the headache, the maid had also provided her mistress with an infusion of primula tea, but still the dull pain lingered close by, as if just waiting for an idle moment in which to pounce. Emma knew that the headache was born purely and simply of nerves, and that nothing would really ward it off unless she suddenly underwent a metamorphosis and became filled with confidence.

  She had finished one letter, and was about to embark upon the next, when Saunders suddenly announced that Gerald had called. Startled, and again caught at a disadvantage, this time with her hair not pinned at all, but simply held back with ribbon, she left the escritoire and prepared to receive him. Why had he called now, when they would see each other that evening anyway?

  He was shown into the room, and bowed to her as the butler closed the double doors behind him. He wore a dove-gray coat and cream breeches, and the crimson brocade of his waistcoat was echoed by the gleaming ruby pin in his neckcloth. His dark hair was a little ruffled, and the color on his cheeks told her that he hadn’t come in his carriage, but had driven in his curricle.

  “Again, I must beg your forgiveness for calling without warning, Miss Rutherford,” he said, coming toward her and bowing over her hand.

  His touch affected her, and she had to swallow. “Of course you are forgiven, Lord Kane, especially if you will make allowances for my rather undressed appearance. I f
ear I have had a headache, and that the thought of pins in my hair was a little intolerable.” How lame it sounded!

  “You look quite charming, Miss Rutherford, so please do not concern yourself about such a trifling matter as the absence of pins. Hair such as yours will always look beautiful, however you choose to wear it.”

  “You are very kind, sir.”

  “And you are unnecessarily anxious, Miss Rutherford,” he replied candidly, looking into her green eyes. “May I speak honestly?” he asked then.

  “By all means, Lord Kane,” she replied, wondering what he was about to say.

  “I have taken the liberty of calling like this because I hoped to find you alone. Yesterday it seemed to me that even allowing for my poorly timed call, you were still rather ill at ease in my company. I know that we are barely acquainted, and, forgive me, that this match is far and beyond any which you would normally have hoped to make. It must be very unsettling for you, especially now that you are here in London and have begun to realize how very different things will be from now on. Am I right?”

  She lowered her eyes. “In part, yes.”

  “In what part am I wrong?”

  “It isn’t that you are wrong, sir, it’s simply that you haven’t considered my bewilderment that you should have selected me.”

  He gave a short laugh. “Bewilderment? Why do you say that?”

  “Because you could have had your pick of grand brides, but instead you’ve chosen me. When set beside the daughters of dukes and earls, I am a nobody from nowhere, and my fortune simply isn’t large enough to explain your odd choice. Why do you want to marry me, Lord Kane?”

  “You underrate yourself, Miss Rutherford.”

  “Do I? Now perhaps it is my turn to speak honestly. I cannot help but know that you must always be comparing me with your first wife, and that I come out very badly in the comparison. I—”

  “Please do not compare yourself with my first wife, Miss Rutherford,” he interrupted quietly.

  She drew back a little. “I fear I cannot help it, Lord Kane,” she said.

  “I have chosen you because you are everything I could wish for, Miss Rutherford, and if I have shunned the daughters of dukes and earls, perhaps it is because on the whole I find them a little tiresome. You are refreshingly new and different, and I think that we will do very well together. If you do not feel the same, then—”

  “I’m simply out of my depth, Lord Kane,” she said, and the painful honesty of the words shone in her eyes as she looked at him.

  “A condition that will be very transient, I promise you,’’ he said gently. “London will take to you, Miss Rutherford, and you will soon learn how to go on in even the most exclusive of circles.”

  “Will I? Forgive me if I cannot be so certain, Lord Kane, but if you only knew how I’m dreading tonight, and how positively terrified I am about the assembly at Manchester House on Friday, when I may find myself in the company of the Prince of Wales—”

  “Miss Rutherford, the Prince of Wales is not an ogre, indeed the very opposite is the case, and you will not only be under Lady Castlereagh’s kindly and capable wing, you will also be with me. I will be at your side, and I promise you that I will support you throughout. Nothing you have said or done since I have met you has given me even the slightest cause to fear I am making a mistake. I wish to make you my wife, and I am here now to reassure you if I possibly can.”

  She loved him so much in that moment that it was all she could do not to blurt out the truth. Tears stung her eyes, and she turned quickly away.

  He took out his handkerchief and pressed it gently into her hand. “If this really is too much of an ordeal for you, then all you need do is say,” he said softly. “The last thing I would ever wish to do is cause you pain in any way, for I hold you in too high regard for that. Do you wish to withdraw from the match?”

  She turned quickly back to him. “No, please, don’t think that. Oh, forgive me for being so weak and silly, I really don’t know what has come over me.”

  “Miss Rutherford, I find your nervousness and uncertainty perfectly understandable, and indeed commendable, for if you had been supremely confident and without sign of nerves, then I would indeed have begun to wonder if I was doing the wrong thing.” He smiled a little. “So, let us be absolutely certain about everything. You wish to proceed with the match?”

  She nodded. “Yes, of course I do,” she said, putting all her doubts behind her as she gazed into his eyes.

  “And so do I, which means that we are in absolute accord. Please don’t ever again doubt yourself, or my commitment in the matter. I wish you to be Lady Kane, and to eventually become the Countess of Cranforth.” He drew her hand to his lips.

  “I will try to be all that you could wish for, Lord Kane,” she whispered, trying to hide the tremble in her voice, for his touch threatened to melt her to her very soul.

  “You already are all that I could wish for, Miss Rutherford,” he murmured, releasing her hand. “And to prove the fact, at least in the eyes of society, I intend to make you a present of something that is usually not given to any Lady Kane until the day of her marriage.’’ He took a small slender red leather case from his pocket and gave it to her.

  Inside she found an exquisite diamond brooch lying on a bed of crimson velvet. The brooch was very old, and fashioned in the shape of the Fitzroy double-headed phoenix, and the diamonds flashed brilliantly in the light from the window.

  Emma’s breath caught with admiration. “Oh, it’s beautiful …”

  “It’s called the Kane Keepsake, and has been in my family for nearly three hundred years. As I said, it is usually given to each new Lady Kane on her wedding day, but I wish to break with that tradition and give it to you now instead.”

  “Why?”

  “Because when society sees it, everyone will know beyond any shadow of doubt that I have gladly chosen you to be my bride. If you wear it tonight, then the message will begin to be delivered without delay.”

  “But if it is such an established tradition to wait until the day of the wedding—”

  “The Keepsake is mine to give as I please, Miss Rutherford.’’

  “Oh, yes, of course, I didn’t mean …” She broke off in embarrassment. The diamonds winked and glittered on their bed of crimson, and the brooch felt ice-cold when she touched it with her fingertips.

  Gerald smiled at her confusion. “If you perhaps fear that my grandfather will disapprove of anything that interferes with time-honored ceremony, then please rest assured that he is fully aware of my intention and that he has given my decision his blessing. I have come here directly from Cranforth House, for I have taken luncheon with him. He arrived in London this morning.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Stephen and I were out walking this morning, and we saw his carriage arrive. I saw the phoenix on the door panel, and when the carriage drove into Cranforth House, I did not think there could be any doubt that it was the earl.”

  “He wishes to meet you as soon as possible. I thought perhaps

  that we could call upon him tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Yes, of course.”

  “And you will wear the Keepsake tonight?”

  “If that is your wish.”

  “It must be your wish too, Miss Rutherford,” he said gently.

  She looked up quickly into his clear gray eyes and nodded. “Then I shall indeed wear it tonight, sir. I am very honored indeed that you should choose to give it to me now.”

  “I thought it would help to reassure you.”

  She managed a small smile. “It does, my lord. Thank you.”

  “I will leave you now, and will return tonight with Lord and

  Lady Castlereagh. Until eight o’clock, Miss Rutherford.”

  “Until then, sir.”

  He bowed, drawing her hand to his lips for a last time, and then he left her. For a moment she wondered if she should hurry after him and accompany him
to the door, but somehow it didn’t seem appropriate on this occasion.

  She gazed down at the Keepsake, nestling in the exquisite red leather case. It was an incomparable jewel, fashioned by a master craftsman, and its diamonds were somehow more dazzling than any she’d ever seen before. She touched it again with her fingertips, and then closed the case. The last time the Kane Keepsake had been presented had been on the day Gerald had married Margot.

  *

  The evening came all too quickly, and as the lamps were lit in the square, Emma dressed for the theater.

  Her room was on the third story of the house, overlooking the gardens and mews at the back. It was an elegant room, but at the same time comfortable and intimate, with pale-green hand-painted silk on the walls, and elaborately lacquered furniture.

  The four-poster bed had a very ornate golden silk canopy, and the posts were carved and gilded. The fireplace was made of white and pink marble, with a brass fender, and the two armchairs on either side were upholstered in chintz. Through an archway there was a dressing room, its interior concealed from the bedroom by a delicately painted lacquer screen, but it contained a dressing table, a washstand, numerous chests of drawers, and three immense wardrobes.

  When Emma’s preparations were complete, she and Dolly emerged from the dressing room and Emma went to stand for a moment before the fire. The curtains were drawn at the windows, and the only light came from the fire and several candelabra on the mantelpiece.

  For this most important of occasions she had chosen to wear a green velvet evening gown that was almost exactly the same color as her eyes. The gown had small petal sleeves, a very high waistline, and a scoop neckline that plunged almost daringly low over her bosom. With it she wore long white gloves and a lacy white shawl that was knotted at the ends.

  The gown was the perfect choice for the Keepsake, for its dainty bodice was softly gathered immediately beneath her breasts, providing an ideal place on which to pin the brooch. The diamonds winked and flashed in the moving light from the fire, finding an echo in the jeweled comb in her hair. Dolly had taken great care with her coiffure, pinning the heavy dark tresses up into a particularly intricate knot at the back of her head and teasing down one single ringlet, which tumbled past the nape of her neck.