“’Is lordship’s not at home, m’lady,” snuffled one of the stable lads. “But ’er ladyship be indoors. I’ll fetch Mister Sanderson, wot’ll h’escort your ladyship to the Hall.”
Emeline arrived at the stables before Sanderson, and stood in amazement and disappointment, face to face with her husband’s elderly and absent minded aunt Elizabeth. The lady shivered in the stable shadows, a little wobbly kneed from her exertions in climbing down from the litter. Her small lady’s companion was holding her hand, helping her mistress remove her travelling gloves while she rubbed her fingers, bringing back a modicum of vascular circulation. The ostlers led the horses and travel worn litter away as the three guards, dismounting, bowed to Emeline as she gazed towards the Lady Elizabeth.
“My lady,” she stuttered, “that is – you’ve come all this way from Nottingham, with the roads as treacherous as they are? You are more than welcome, but we were not expecting – though my mother, and Adrian of course would not have known, though he’s out, and Nicholas will be back shortly. The earl,” she added, “is mercifully still at court.”
“Thank the good Lord for His consideration,” sighed her ladyship. “But it is dear Sysabel I’ve come to find. You see –”
And Emeline said, “I know, my lady, I know. Are you chilled? I shall order hot spiced hippocras at once.”
Beneath her watchful mother’s eye, Emeline acted the hostess and organised wine, chambers prepared, places for the additional grooms, guards and servants, and ordered a hearty hot supper to be served in the hall for five of the clock or as close thereafter as could be achieved. There would, she said a little faintly, be two gentlemen and three ladies, always supposing Lord Nicholas bothered to come home at all. And if he did, he might not choose to stay too long.
They sat for two hours by the empty hearth, fidgeting with their cups and refusing refills. “Young Sysabel,” sighed Aunt Elizabeth, “is a good girl. Still awaiting her betrothal arrangements of course, since her Papa died many moons ago and dear Adrian, while a most attentive brother, seems loathe to lose her company. He is inclined to be a solitary gentleman, and trusts only his sister.” The lady sipped her hippocras. “Adrian has every reason to trust myself of course, but age is not ever kind, and I do not always remember precisely what it is he has asked me to do.”
“He should do it himself then,” muttered Emeline.
Her mother scowled at her. “Young Adrian will be back soon, I’m sure,” said the baroness. “And my son-in-law is expected home later. He will say you should not have felt obliged – coming all this way – a horrendous journey for a lady of advanced – and in any case, my dear, you are most certainly welcome, and I shall much appreciate your presence. My daughter will make sure you are comfortable and without doubt your niece and my younger daughter will be found very soon.”
The Lady Elizabeth blinked. “I woke one dull morning to discover poor Sysabel had left at dawn,” she sighed. “Properly accompanied and guarded, and leaving me a contrite message naturally, but I could just imagine what Adrian would say to me about his sister’s unsanctioned departure. I sent an immediate messenger to your home, my lady, in Wrotham. But within days the messenger returned, telling me Sysabel was no longer there. She had left quite abruptly in the company of Mistress Avice, and had not yet been traced. It was supposed that both young girls were intending a trip to London. I immediately made plans to follow.” She waved vague and directionless fingers. “And here I am, though with no thanks to the state of the roads.”
“Sissy and Avice,” said Emeline under her breath, “ought to be whipped.”
A flutter of silken gowns left the supper table for an early retirement, the ladies fractious and dreaming of their beds. A despondent and unfulfilled impatience seemed more wearisome than any imagined activity. Adrian returned almost immediately afterwards, spoke at length with both the Steward Sanderson and his own henchmen, and then took himself off to his chamber, quite unaware that his aunt was deeply asleep just ten steps further along the corridor.
It was very late when Nicholas arrived home. Emeline, though half asleep, was sitting up in bed, not entirely hopeful, but waiting for him. She rubbed her eyes as the door quietly opened, made sure it was indeed her husband, and whispered, “Thank goodness you’ve come. I was frightened you’d be out all night, or even all week, or simply be too tired to visit me. I need to tell you something.”
Nicholas collapsed onto the window seat, stretching both back and legs. He was clearly exhausted. “That I’m a neglectful husband, and you’re worried sick about your sister?”
Emeline watched the deepening shadows slink like bruises around his eyes, silhouetting his expression in wary uncertainty. Down the dragging scar his flesh seemed sunken and hollowed. His lips were tight and pale. Emeline inhaled, abandoned all the words she had been about to say, and instead said, “Nicholas, my own darling, you’ve been speaking with the king. I’m just so pleased you didn’t have to ride off in the night on some wild dangerous scheme without even speaking to me first. But yes, I am worried sick about Avice. And now your Aunt Elizabeth has arrived here.”
“Impossible.” He had started to undress, as usual not caring to call for his valet, with an impatient tug at his doublet lacings and the open neck of his shirt. He kicked off his boots, shrugged both shirt and doublet together from over his head, and reappeared, blinking anew at his wife. “The woman lives a hundred miles away,” he said. “She doesn’t travel.”
Emeline flexed her fingers and inhaled again. “My brain, pickled and sadly female as it is, is not entirely lost to me, Nicholas,” she said. “Your aunt is definitely here and asleep in one of the guest chambers. Adrian had forbidden his sister to leave home, so your aunt was worried about Sissy’s sudden departure. She sent a query to Wrotham, only to discover chaos and upheaval with everyone already disappeared, off busily chasing everyone else. So she came here.”
Nicholas, warmly naked, rolled heavily into bed and took his wife immediately into his arms, tight snuggled against him. Her last words tickled his neck. He sighed. “So we have Adrian, your mother, and now my aunt. Is there anyone I’ve overlooked? Everyone is here in fact, except your sister and my cousin who are the cause of it all. It seems coming here was not so wise. I’d hoped for peace, and a chance to get to know my wife.”
“Peace?” Emeline’s smile curved into the identical curve of her husband’s shoulder as she slipped her fingers around his waist. “You never promised me peace, Nicholas. I’ve had that all my life and it’s far less attractive than people seem to expect. And I thought you were chasing adventure – not tedium.”
“Peace can be surprisingly seductive. And relatives can be irretrievably tedious.”
“At least your father isn’t here.”
Nicholas sighed. “I imagine he will be. I’ve been talking to his highness, as you know. The king has work for me – while offering his excuses for having indefinitely cancelled my father’s mission to Spain.”
“Your father knows. He blames you.”
“Which is why he’ll be delighted to discover me here, and come to berate me again. It’s all that’s left to him.”
Emeline kissed his ear, nibbling at the short flat lobe. “Poor darling. And I suppose you can’t tell him the king’s given you the mission instead.”