Realms of Stone

by Sharon K Gilbert

  “Oh, Beth, that’s tragic!” Charles exclaimed. “But where is the child now?”

  “Stillborn, but even if the girl had lived, she’d have been sent to a private orphanage in Switzerland, far from Victoria’s reach. That’s what was done in those days. It makes me sad to think of it. Tory said that, even if you hadn’t been the long-lost Sinclair heir, she would have encouraged me to marry you, because true love is rare. And it is, Charles! What we have is so very rare! I pray we never stand in the way of it, if any of our children ever falls in love with... Well, with someone my great-grandfather would have considered unfit. Who are we to interfere in true love?”

  “Would you have married me had I been just a policeman?” he asked, looking at her with wide eyes. “Truly, Beth, would you?”

  She held his hand, touching his wedding band as she spoke. “Yes! Ask the duke if you don’t believe me. I told him that I loved you, all those years ago, after my sixteenth birthday—though I think he knew even before, because I spoke about you often enough. I told him I wanted to marry you, and do you know what he said? He could have argued that I was promised to Paul, but he never even mentioned it. Not once. Instead, he told me that any man who protected and loved me, and whom I loved, would earn not only his respect but also his love, and that he would welcome you as my husband. His only concern was that you were still legally married. I’m sure that’s why he sent me to Paris. Despite all that, I know that Grandfather liked and respected you even then, and since that day, he’s come to love you, not because of your titles, my darling husband, but because of your character.”

  He drew her close, his arms ‘round her waist. “Beth, do you know that I very nearly kissed you that day at Aubrey House? But I feared Paul might walk in on us, and he’d have made certain I never saw you again. When you left for Paris, it broke my heart. I assumed you were lost to me forever.”

  “Oh, Charles, I wanted you to kiss me! Couldn’t you tell? I thought my heart was going to leap out of my chest when I saw you that day! Ever since, all I’ve wanted was to be your wife, and now I am. We were always meant to be together, Captain.”

  He kissed her cheek. “I love you more than any poet could express, Elizabeth. So very much, but the night has grown long, and it’s time your Captain took you to bed.”

  She laughed as he carried her through the foyer, past the stairs, to the electric lift. He set her down briefly to shut the scrolled metal grating. “Keep close to me,” he said as the motor engaged. “The cage still jerks and sways a bit. I’m having the electrics men look into it this week.”

  As soon as the lift reached the first floor, he drew back the grating and took her into his arms again, carrying her along the west corridor to their apartment.

  “Are you sure I’m not too heavy?” she laughed. “I am getting fat, you know.”

  “Yes, you must weigh all of eight stone now, but if you weighed twenty, I’d love you all the more,” he said as they entered the apartment.

  “Of course, you do carry three of us.”

  “Three?” he asked.

  “Your wife and two children. An entire family of Sinclairs in one package!”

  “A very beautiful package at that, Mrs. Sinclair,” he answered as they passed into the bed chamber. “Now, I shall settle you into this soft bed and leave you to sleep.”

  “Leave? Charles, don’t go, please!”

  “I’d assumed you’re too weary, Beth.”

  “You and I have waited a fortnight to begin our married lives, Charles. Please, stay with me.”

  He placed his bride on the bed, and then sat down next to her. “No, I mean, yes! Of course, I realise that, but Beth, I make no promise about how I might behave.”

  “I think that is allowed now, husband. We are married, after all.”

  For weeks, Charles had imagined the moment when he could at last share himself with her, fully and completely—becoming one with Elizabeth—but he suddenly felt fearful.

  “You’re certain it won’t harm the babies?”

  “I asked Dr. Gehlen specifically about that. He said, barring anything unforeseen, that we should be able to enjoy a healthy wedded life, but added that he routinely cautions couples expecting twins to abstain at four months.”

  “Then we have two more months?”

  “We do, Captain.”

  He removed his paisley waistcoat, and switched off the electric lights. “Shall I finish changing in my bedchamber?”

  This puzzled the duchess. “You could, if you prefer, but you needn’t leave because of me. I can change in the bath, if you wish privacy.”

  Suddenly, he felt like a youth encountering intimacy for the very first time. It made no sense. I’m thirty-three years old! What am I afraid of? Hurting her? Hurting the babies? Or is it something else?

  “It’s just easier,” he muttered, leaving the chamber and passing through the bath and dressing area to the master’s chamber. Sinclair shut his eyes, his back against the closed door that now separated them.

  What is wrong with me? Any other man would already be making love to her!

  “Charles?” she called from the other side of the door. “Darling, perhaps, we should wait. If you’re too tired, I understand. You’ve slept very little this past week, and you’re still recovering from your injury. Perhaps, you should rest tonight. There’s no rush. We have a lifetime, after all.”

  He said nothing, a hundred thoughts arguing with one another inside his head. Do I fear disappointing her? Disappointing myself? Good heavens, man, stop being an idiot! She loves you, and this is what you’ve prayed for these four years!

  “Darling? I’ll just go to sleep on my own. Go to bed and rest. Honestly, I understand completely. I love you, Charles. With all my heart and soul, I love you,” she whispered through the thick wood.

  Charles could picture her standing there, and he knew her words were heartfelt. Amelia would have judged him harshly, even taunted him as fearful or weak, but not Beth. Never had God created such a gentle woman as this, and he was making her wait. Why?

  He opened the door and lifted her into his strong arms.

  “I’ll rest better with you beside me,” he whispered as he carried the duchess back to her bedchamber. He set Elizabeth upon the soft bed and gazed at her ethereal beauty, marvelling at the miracle before him. “I don’t deserve such joy, but I bless God for it.”

  Since the night in Scotland, when a strange potion had forced them both into a situation that led to the creation of new life, Charles had often relived it in dreams. Nothing in those pleasant reveries compared to the passionate beauty of this night. Since the dawn of time, few couples had ever joined so closely, so intimately, so spiritually united, that time itself seemed to stop for an entire city.

  But this night, it did.

  Many would greet their morning eggs and toast with strange recollections of having dreamt of living miracles walking London’s streets. The sun would rise behind a pillowy bank of friendly clouds, as though worried that his rays might waken the dreaming couple who held one another within their marriage bed. Westminster’s dogs would sleep long and late, and impassionate cats refrain from chasing mice and birds, hushed into silence, their meowing ceased. That night, across the parish and surrounding, a mist of incredible peace blanketed all citizens, animals, and even the houses with rapturous joy, and for a little while, all was right with the world.

  It would be a night of miracles, and for Charles Sinclair, making love to Elizabeth would heal his mind and body as nothing else in all the world ever could. As their hearts sang together in a single, melodious refrain, all his fears vanished.

  In the quiet of a moonlit night, a new era had begun.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Wednesday, 5th December, 1888

  Exhausted from their night of bliss, Charles and Elizabeth slept late, not awakening until after ten.
As he opened his eyes, the marquess smiled at finding the duchess lying beside him. Over their heads, entwined hearts painted on the underside of the tester bed’s canopy reminded him of what he’d gained.

  “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered. “Today is another miracle.”

  Elizabeth turned towards him, her slender arm crossing his chest. She opened her eyes, asking sleepily, “Is it morning already?”

  “It is the first day of our married life, my darling. Our true life, I mean. And today is my first full day as commissioner of this new branch.”

  “Must you work today?” she asked.

  “Not right away. Salisbury and Matthews are my only bosses, you might say. I rather doubt they’ll mind if I delay starting,” he said, pulling her close. “Shall we have breakfast up here? Do you feel up to eating?”

  “Not yet,” she said, her stomach complaining. “Tea sounds fine. With peppermint, if it’s not too much trouble.”

  He left the bed and crossed to the fireplace. “It seems cold in here.”

  “It’s warm in bed,” she tempted him.

  “So it is,” Charles answered, smiling, “but any warmth is because of you, not the heating. These new radiators are supposed to heat the rooms evenly, yet there are cold spots. This corner is freezing!”

  She sat up, looking at him as he stood there, her eyes bright. Neither wore a stitch of clothing, and Beth began to laugh. “Perhaps, your lack of attire is the cause of your lack of warmth, Commissioner Sinclair.”

  Charles laughed, too, as he found his discarded trousers and pulled them on. He lit the gas in the fireplace, and then returned to the rumpled bed. “Are you complaining of my lack of attire?”

  “Of course, not, my lord. I think you’re quite handsome in your natural state. I’ve seen museum statues with less perfect lines. It strikes me that you could serve as a sculptor’s model.”

  “Shall I model for you, my love?”

  “As often as possible,” she answered. “I’ve never been very successful at sculpture, though. Tis a pity, for your face has the sort of lines that cry out for fine marble.”

  He leaned across the bed and kissed her twice. “Even with the beard?”

  “Even then,” she told him. “Will you keep it?”

  “If you want,” he answered. “I could shave or let it grow to my chest like Salisbury. My grooming is constrained only by my lady’s pleasure.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “Consider your lady pleased.”

  He grew more amorous, but someone knocked on the door, and a deep, male voice called hesitantly. “Sir? Are you and the duchess ready for breakfast?”

  Charles shrugged. “We’ll continue that later, wife,” he whispered. Then turning, he called out, “Thank you, Mr. Baxter! We’ll take tea in our parlour, if that can be arranged.”

  “Very good, my lord. I’ll bring the morning papers as well, just as soon as Mrs. Paget prepares the tray. Do you prefer Darjeeling or Ceylon?” he asked through the closed door.

  Sinclair rose from the bed. “Wait a moment!” he told the butler. Beth also left the bed and entered the bath.

  Once there was no danger of embarrassing the duchess or the butler, Charles opened the chamber door a crack. “Thank you for your patience, Mr. Baxter. I’ll have coffee, and the duchess prefers Darjeeling but asks for peppermint to soothe her stomach. Might that be possible?”

  The butler grinned. “Ah, yes, the morning is always the most difficult time for expectant mothers, or so I’m told. Very good, sir. As it’s your first full day as commissioner, shall I assist you with a shave?”

  Charles ran a hand across his darkened chin. “No, not today. The duchess likes the beard. I may keep it. Has anyone called this morning? The earl?”

  “His lordship sent a message. In fact, you’ve received four telegrams and two delivered notes. Also, a large basket of flowers arrived half an hour ago from Lord Salperton.”

  “Flowers? How thoughtful. Bring everything but the flowers up when you can, Baxter. Put the bouquet in the foyer to make sure the duchess sees it.”

  Pleased that his charges seemed content, the butler departed with a spring in his step.

  Charles knocked on the bathroom door. “Beth? May I cross through, or do you prefer I use the other door?”

  “Sorry,” she answered. “Give me a minute.”

  The moment passed, and the door opened. Elizabeth’s colour had paled, and she was wiping her face with a wet cloth.

  “Darling, are you unwell?”

  “No, just pregnant,” she sighed. “Was that Baxter’s voice?”

  “Yes, and we’re having tea delivered shortly, with peppermint. Is there any way I can help?”

  “Alicia’s still visiting her mother, which means I have no lady’s maid. Would you help me dress?”

  “I’ll do my best,” he laughed. “Give me five minutes first, though.”

  Charles crossed to the master’s chamber and changed into a pair of pyjama bottoms and dressing gown, and then joined his wife once more.

  Beth had selected a quilted velvet dressing gown in peacock blue, and he held the locks of her long hair as she slipped her arms into the sleeves and buttoned the front.

  “I’ve always loved the way your hair curls. Is it natural?”

  “I fear it is. Alicia uses a heated flat iron to straighten it for special occasions. Did our daughter have curls?”

  “She did—or rather will have. I’m still wrestling with how to describe that experience, but I’m convinced you and I were in an actual place. For one thing, Georgianna called me a duke, which I’d thought a mistake at the time, but she said it was something from our future, and that she wasn’t supposed to tell me. Apparently, the future version of myself warned against revealing too much.”

  Beth’s eyes rounded with worry. “You’ll become Duke of Drummond? Are you telling me that my grandfather will die before 1899?”

  “No, darling, forgive me! I should have been more precise. I suspect your grandfather will outlive us all. I have never known a man more vital than James Stuart. Actually, Georgie called me Duke of Haimsbury.”

  “There is no such title.”

  “There is now,” he said. “Or rather, there will be. Let me tell you about a very strange meeting.”

  “Are you saying I shall have a new title, husband? Duchess of Haimsbury?”

  “You will, but allow me to tell the story in my own way, wife. As I left the London on Monday, a very odd fellow whistled to gain my attention. I’d never seen the man before, yet he insisted I join him. He would not take no for an answer, so I entered the coach and soon found myself at a men’s club.”

  “What sort of men’s club, Charles? Not one of those disreputable ones, I hope!”

  “Nothing of the sort. Quite reputable, in fact. The Oriental. I asked the stranger why he’d brought me to a club to which I had no qualifications, and he led me upstairs to the Mauritius Room. Inside, I met a lady.”

  Beth’s eyes widened. “You met a woman at a gentlemen’s club? Please, don’t tell me that you’ve strayed already, husband! I shall have to seek my solicitor’s advice, or better still call for Baxter, who will soundly thrash you for such unkind behaviour!”

  “No need to distress our butler, darling,” he replied, patting her hand. “Not a whit. The lady in question wears a crown, you see, though she did not bring it with her that afternoon.”

  “The queen?”

  “The sovereign, yes, but you, my darling wife, are the only queen who matters to me,” he said, kissing her cheek.

  “Finish the story, before this queen rings for her butler!”

  “Very well,” he laughed. “Have you, by chance, seen any newspapers of late?”

  “No, why?”

  “There’s a story that’s shown up here and there, which implies Her Majesty is illegitim
ate and hints at the existence of a royal bloodline with greater rights to the throne.”

  She grew serious. “Charles, are you referring to the inner circle? To our family?”

  “Yes,” he answered, “but you mustn’t worry about it. I assumed the reports all invention or even speculation. Someone with a vague notion, hoping to sell papers, but it turns out that the story was whispered to Fred Best by none other than Prince Albert Victor.”

  “Eddy? Why would he do that, Charles? Eddy hasn’t a political bone in his body!”

  “I cannot speak to that, but Her Majesty admitted her own complicity in the plot. It’s quite complicated, actually, but the bottom line is that she wishes to make me a duke and has asked me to serve on the privy council.”

  Rather than rejoice, Elizabeth grew agitated. “Did you say yes?”

  “I’ve given no firm answer other than asking if I might talk with you and Uncle James about it. James found no issues, and he and Tory are already planning a party. Do you object?”

  “I’m not sure,” she replied seriously. “It’s all too strange! I’ve been told again and again that the document which our ancestors signed must always be kept secret. You remember how much I avoided telling you this when we met in October. It’s remained a secret in order to protect the children born to both lines. Her Majesty knows how hard we’ve tried to keep others from learning of it. Why would she make it public?”

  “She has her reasons, which are politically motivated, and she’s not making the document public, exactly. Look, it’s best you ask her yourself. Oh, that reminds me, Her Majesty asked if she might join us at Branham for Christmas.”