by Eliza Lloyd
“Yes, I know it’s a shock. It was a shock to me when I realized it about two hours after we met. Nora, dear, you don’t ever have to worry about your home here or any home I have. What I have is yours.” He wiped his thumb over her cheek, then pressed a light kiss to her lips.
“Don’t tell Fromme or Andover, but I am so happy your father ended up with Henbury Hall,” she said.
“In spite of all this mess?” he asked.
“I guess we’ll have to add it to the mystery of Henbury Hall. I am sorry for your father, though. It seems such a waste of life looking for something that’s not there.”
“I love you, Nora. Promise that you will bring your cares to me, your worries, your joys. No more talk of annulment or dissolution. We are together from this day forward.”
“What will it be like to wake without a care about my family, I wonder?” she asked, squeezing Carlow’s hand. Her family now.
Each day that passed relieved some of Nora’s anxiety. There was a certain satisfaction in rebuilding Henbury Hall and watching the slow progress as the skilled laborers busied themselves with repairs. Within two days of their arrival, the earl’s room was finished.
Nora insisted on cleaning the room one last time before she placed the rugs on the floor, settled the table and chairs in their spot, moved the cheval mirror here…and then there. She stood at the door and enjoyed the vision of her labor.
She heard Carlow approach and he peered over her shoulder into the room.
“Ah, at last. It looks like a room well-loved. But come with me, I have something else I need to share. You asked about it ages ago, and I finally know the answer.”
He took her hand and led her down the stairs. “What is it?”
“You’ll see.”
Carlow led her into one of the outbuildings. A carriage house by the looks of the interior. There were stall boxes for horses, and one carriage with a broken wheel, which leaned against an interior wall. Harnesses and other leather accouterments hung on the iron racks. Troughs, whether for water or hay she didn’t know, were spread at intervals along the interior. The spiders had been busy, leaving giant weaves and heavy hanging threads anywhere there was a corner or nook.
“In here,” he said, opening a gate that grated against the floor while the hinge creaked.
She peeked around him to see piles of crates, maybe fifteen or twenty, neatly stacked against the wall and filling half the room. “What’s in them?”
“In the one I opened there were mostly books. One of the laborers found them in an upstairs room, and they moved them out here to keep them out of the way while they did all the repairs. I guess I was never curious enough to look in each room.”
“Oh, Carlow, there is treasure after all,” she said as she opened a crate by unfastening the leather straps. The smell of age and must wafted upward, but she could not immediately tell if any of the books were ruined. “I’ll have to go through all of them. This is so wonderful.” She picked up the first book. “Oh, Carlow, thank you!” She rubbed her hand over the leather, feeling her father and her past all come together with the simple touch. He was here. In the books, the rooms, the hallowed grounds.
“There’s no real space in the library yet, unless you want me to have the workers build a temporary shelf in the sitting room?”
“Please do. That would be perfect!!” She glanced at Carlow. “Really, this is almost too good to be true.”
“Don’t get your hopes up too high. There might be some damage.”
“Or there might be something in addition to books. I can’t believe no one got into them or stole them.”
“I suspect the damage in the house was a deterrent to trespassers, assuming the house was completely empty. Father was here most days, though, searching for the hoard, and I was here shortly after that.”
“Whatever happened, I’m grateful.”
“Well, I leave you to your exploration.”
“Wait,” she said. Nora threw her arms about his neck and pressed her lips to his. He dropped his hands to her waist. “Thank you. For this. For so much.”
Aside from meals, Nora spent the next three days immersed in the search for memorials, anything she could remember, anything she or her father and or mother might have touched. Whenever she encountered a beautiful binding or a classic read, she put in a separate pile and took it to the house with her.
A rider came up the lane late in the afternoon. Curious, Nora left her stacks and crates to see who it was.
“Lady Carlow?” the rider said.
“Yes.”
“I have a letter from London for you.”
Carlow saved her some embarrassment when he walked out the front door. “What is it?” he said in a loud voice.
“A letter. It’s from Timothy,” she said.
Carlow hand the rider a few coins and dispatched him while Nora tore open the envelope. “Oh, no! Carlow, you aren’t going to believe this.”
“If a Blasington is involved, I will believe it as gospel truth.”
“Timothy’s married!”
“Not to Cecily Sheldrick, I hope?”
“No. I’ve never heard of her—Miss Millicent de Aramitz. Timothy says not to worry. Evidently, Miss de Aramitz is dowered with a small fortune.”
“When it rains, it pours. Miss de Aramitz’s father is the French ambassador. Likely why you’re not familiar with the family. I suppose you want to return to London?”
“We must. We have to find out what sort of trouble he’s gotten himself into.”
“I wouldn’t worry. It’s no more trouble than we got ourselves into.”
* * * * *
“Timothy,” Nora said, gritting her teeth. “What have you done?” The carriage ride home happened in a whirl of orders and then fleeing like common thieves. Rushing back to London would do no good, she knew. Her brother was already married! But he was so young. She had no idea he had this sort of impetuousness.
In Carlow’s library, her brother wore an idiotic grin, as if he had conquered the world. “I’ve made it possible to start my own life,” Timothy said.
“I don’t mean that. I mean how did this happen?”
Carlow lounged in his favorite chair, sipping at a drink. He was also smiling, enjoying another Blasington calamity, one which didn’t involve Nora.
“I rescued her from ruin. Evidently, some ton miscreant thought he’d do well to compromise Miss de Aramitz, I mean Lady Wargrove, and I stepped up to offer my services after the villain fled. I think it did have something to do with Millie’s father threatening to kill the bounder. All parties, including me, were amenable. In truth, my offer was out of my mouth before I could really think about it. She is quite lovely, you understand.”
“Lovely and rich? Well done, Wargrove,” Carlow commented. Nora flashed him an angry look. Such comments would do no good at this point.
“Oh, and she is nice, too. I mean, she is what a man looks for in a wife.”
“What is that?” Nora said.
“I should provide you a list? The event is over, and I want you to meet her and embrace her with all the love a sister should. She is part of our family now.”
“Of course, we will meet her. This isn’t about anything she’s done.”
“And I’ve done nothing other than what a gentleman would do.”
“Well, he does have you there, Nora,” Carlow said.
“Have you made Lord and Lady Fortenay aware of the grand tidings?”
“Yes, I sent a letter. Lord Carlow, I would like to know if we might spend the next two weeks with you before we leave for our honeymoon.”
“Where are you going?”
“To France. She has extensive family there.”
“Of course. Nora, you have no real objection, do you?” Carlow asked, still enjoying the dilemma.
“Real or not, my objections matter not a wit. But at least it is not Exeter’s granddaughter. I should be thankful for that.”
“Oh, I did think it nece
ssary to advise Cecily of my changing affections.”
Nora laughed. “You are more than generous.” Finally, a little something she could appreciate in this mess.
“If that is all, I’m taking my wife to the park. It’s a perfect day for a carriage ride, don’t you think?” Timothy said.
Carlow jumped up and shook Timothy’s hand. “Congratulations, Lord Wargrove. Nora and I are happy for you.”
Timothy bowed quickly and hurried away. At the library door, he stopped and said, “And I should tell you before you find out from friendly gossip, Lady Wargrove is with child. Three months only. The father is Viscount Heath, if you were wondering. It’s not common knowledge. Not even his wife knows.”
“What?” Nora jumped to her feet, but Carlow caught her before she could fly across the room.
“We will be in France until after the child is born.”
The door slammed shut. Nora still stood with her mouth open.
“I’m sure everything will be fine,” Carlow said. “Would you like a drink, Nora?”
“I bloody well do!”
Nora was frozen in the middle of the room. Carlow walked toward the sideboard and poured a healthy draught for both of them. “Come here, Nora. Sit with me.”
Like a sleepwalker, she found her way to his side and accepted her glass of hard liquor. “Your brother should be commended. He saw a woman wronged and jumped in to make things right. That this decision is likely to make the rest of his life much easier is just an aside.”
“He didn’t even ask about Henbury Hall,” she said, then swallowed a mouthful of burning liquid.
“Good. Because I wasn’t giving it to him.” Carlow swirled his drink, crossed his leg and then let out a loud laugh. “I didn’t think there was a possibility that Nora the Avenger would ever be crossed by Timothy the Noble.” He laughed again.
* * * * *
Nora and Carlow attended several balls that week along with the Dowager Countess Carlow, Timothy and Millicent. Nora was reminded that one had to be brave in order to mend the worst disasters. And facing the ton would be done as a family.
She was also reminded that Timothy would leave in a week. If he were really gone for six months, it would be the longest she had ever spent away from him. But for Millicent’s reputation, it would be for the best. In one week, they’d all grown used to and welcomed this new addition to their family.
“Ah, here it is,” Carlow said. “You are going to love this tea. All of you.” A servant followed him into the room carrying a silver tray and a full complement of teapot, cups and delicacies, including pickles, which were set on a table between them.
The young servant girl stayed and poured for everyone.
“Carlow, you really must end this quest to find the perfect tea for me. It’s just not that enjoyable. Yes, a hot cup is fine on a chilly day and it does quench one’s thirst, but that is about all it does.”
“In France, we adore tea,” Millie said. “It is the whole experience. The exquisite cups, the delicate china and the perfect sweets and savories to pair with a hot cup. We tend to make it an experience instead of just a drink. But I must say, English tea is much too strong. Drinkable, but strong.”
“Then you might like this new concoction as well, Lady Wargrave. It’s called chai. Evidently the East India Trading Company has found a new source for teas outside of China, from a region called Assam. I will say no more. Only taste it and tell me about the newfound joys of afternoon tea.”
Nora accepted her cup. “Milk, please.”
“No, try it as it is first,” Carlow said. His shoulder practically bumped against hers.
“You are too close. If I am to enjoy this cup, I can’t have you eyeing my every movement.”
“Mmm,” Timothy said. “It is good. Lots of spices I don’t recognize.” He plucked up a scone and dipped it into the liquid.
“Oh, yes,” Millie added. “Delicious.”
“Go ahead, Nora,” Timothy said.
“All right. I’ll try it, but all this pressure will not yield the results you imagine.”
She sipped and swooshed it in her mouth a bit before swallowing. “Different.” She sipped again, enjoying the depth of flavor so different from the traditional blend with its tart but aromatic bergamot flavor.
Would she have to concede that Carlow had found a tea she could drink with regularity? “Hm, it is better than most teas I’ve had.”
“Is that an admission?” Carlow asked.
“It is an acknowledgement of your efforts.” She smiled at Carlow, enjoying his attempts to please her.
Mintz entered the room. “My lords. My ladies. There is a representative from the Child and Company to see Lord Wargrave and Lady Carlow.”
“Me?” Timothy said.
“Why us?” Nora asked.
“I don’t know. Perhaps I could invite her into the library, and you might ask her yourself?”
“Certainly. Bring her in,” Carlow ordered.
All of them stood. Mintz lead the well-dressed woman into the room. She was followed by two men carrying a midsize wooden trunk with leather straps, wooden slats and metal strips around it along with three hasps at the front, each with a padlock. They set it on the floor and departed as efficiently as they arrived.
Mintz announced, in his most formal voice, “May I present Lady Jersey, Sara Sophia Child-Villiers.”
Millicent and Nora curtsied deeply. Timothy and Carlow both bowed at the waist.
“What an honor to have you in our home, Lady Jersey,” Carlow said.
Nora’s experience with ton nobles was limited. However, she had read the London Times for as long as she could remember, and Lady Jersey was a preeminent member of society. Patroness of Almack’s club. Principal of Child and Company since her grandfather had left the bank in trust for her when he’d died years ago. As a senior partner, she often acted in her capacity to see to bank business.
“Lord and Lady Carlow. Lord and Lady Wargrove. My felicitations on your recent marriages.”
“Thank you. Please have a seat,” Carlow said, directing their guest.
Nora had never given a thought to Lady Jersey’s capacity but seeing her in their home as powerful woman and bank representative gave pause. Of course, the paper also mentioned her name in connection with several men. Her affairs were discreet yet gave her an air of notoriety also.
She sat on the edge of her chair, back straight. “You must wonder why I am here.”
“Indeed, I can’t imagine why,” Lord Carlow said. “We have banked with Lloyd’s for a number of years.”
“Yes, we know. But our clients were the Blasingtons, my lord, and that is the business upon which I am here.”
“The Blasingtons?” Nora said. She wasn’t prepared to tell the truth of the Blasingtons in front of Lady Jersey, but it must be common knowledge they barely had two sticks to rub together, let alone coins.
“Yes. At Lord Wargrave’s twenty-first birthday or his marriage, whichever came earlier, I was to deliver this trunk. The contents have been held under seal at our bank since several months before your father was hanged. Rest assured, when the Crown came looking for his assets, we were obliged to tell them George Blasington had no business with us. And it was no one’s business that we held this for his children in trust.”
Nora glanced at Carlow, then her brother. Carlow’s brows were drawn, contemplating what it might be. Timothy’s eyes were round as saucers, unable to comprehend where Lady Jersey’s visit might lead.
“This packet was addressed to both of you. From your father.”
“Papa?” Nora was on her feet in a flash and took a few steps toward Lady Jersey, accepting—taking—the small packet. She held it to her chest. “Did you know my father?”
“Oh, no, dear. For us, it was just a transaction. All in a day’s work. I imagine you must feel differently. Well, I have done my duty. I should be going.”
“You wouldn’t like to stay for tea?” Carlow had the wherewit
hal for politeness while both Timothy and Nora were in a daze.
“How do we open it?” Nora asked. She gripped one of the padlocks.
“I do believe the keys are inside your envelope. I’m sure Carlow is clever enough to figure out how to open a box,” Lady Jersey said with a saucy glance at Carlow. She might have even winked at him.
Nora’s senses tingled with animus and was reminded of Lady Jersey’s reputation, at least what was fit to print in the paper. She glanced at Lady Jersey to see she, indeed, had her gaze firmly affixed on her husband.
Carlow must have caught her meaning. He stared back with a fairly benign look. No smile, no twinkling eye, just ambivalence to whatever her private suggestion was. “Since the box belongs to my wife, I will make every effort to open it just for her.”
“If there is nothing else, I will take my leave.”
“Thank you, Lady Jersey,” Nora said. Everyone stood again and Lady Jersey swept from the room. The four of them stood around the trunk, staring at each other and then back to the padlocks and straps.
“Well? What do we do know?” Timothy asked.
“Call me daft, but maybe you should open the envelope,” Carlow said.
“Yes. Yes, of course. Your name is on the outside, Timothy.”
“So is yours,” Timothy said. “I’m sure Father meant it for both of us.”
“But it was your marriage and your birthday that were important,” she countered. “I think he meant it for you.”
“You’re the elder.”
“Mon dieu!” Millie exclaimed, and reached for the envelope, peeling it back. She dumped the contents on the couch they’d just vacated. Two envelopes fell out along with the keys. “There is one for each of you,” she said.
“Let’s open them at the same time,” Nora said.
“No, I want to read mine privately,” Timothy insisted.
“Mon dieu is right, Lady Wargrave! Someone open one of the envelopes,” Carlow demanded.
“No!” Nora sat on the couch. “I cannot rush something I’ve waited for my entire life. To converse with my father again through his words. I will give this moment the attention it deserves.” She reached for the teapot and poured another cup, keeping her letter in her lap. “Don’t let me stop you from reading yours, Timothy.”
