All the Pleasures of the Season (9 page)

 

C
HAPTER
F
IFTEEN

A
dam and Marianne arrived at noon, with their six-year-old son Jamie and their infant daughter in tow.

Lady Augusta Porter-Pennwarren, Carrington's widowed sister, arrived in the afternoon, and immediately retired to her rooms for a nap and a hand of whist with her companion.

Phineas and Isobel, the Marquess and Marchioness of Blackwood—with Isobel's young son, the Earl of Ashdown—arrived just as the sun was sinking behind the trees.

They all gathered in the library.

“Goodwin, where is Lady Miranda?” Marianne asked as the butler served tea.

“She went down to the village to deliver His Grace's Christmas cheer to the tenants. She should be back soon, my lady.”

“And did a gentleman by the name of Fielding arrive here, by any chance?” she asked.

Phineas looked up. “Gilbert Fielding?”

Goodwin smiled. “The very gentleman. He left not more than two hours ago on horseback.”

“He
left
?” Marianne got to her feet. “Did he see Carrington before his departure?” She turned to Isobel without waiting for an answer. “It doesn't sound as if it went well, does it?”

“You should have waited until we were all here, Marianne,” Phineas said. “We could have brought Gilbert with us, stood with him, insisted that Carrington accept him.”

“That would have made him more determined to refuse, I believe,” Adam said. “Some things must be left to fate, without interference or assistance, no matter how well meaning.”

“We only wanted what's best for Miranda! She'll be heartbroken!” Marianne got to her feet to pace the rug. “There must be something we can do! Phin, could you ride after Gilbert, bring him back?

“It's very cold, and nearly dark. The footman said a member of Carrington's staff is predicting more snow,” Adam said. “Is he a scientist?”

“Bunions,” Phineas and Marianne said together.

Adam frowned. “Still, I think waiting here for Miranda's return is the most logical course of action, don't you?”

Marianne turned to Isobel with a look of horror “What if they've eloped?”

Now Isobel looked at her husband. “Phineas, you must ride after them at once!”

Adam sighed. “You trust a man who forecasts the weather by bunions, yet you will not give Miranda or even Gilbert Fielding the benefit of the doubt. They are both sensible people.”

Marianne sat, but she pointed to the clock above the fireplace. “If she isn't back within the next quarter hour, we must go out and find her.”

“Agreed,” Adam said. “That leaves time for another cup of tea.”

M
iranda left Tilly with her mother overnight, promising to send Mr. Wilkins out with the sled to fetch her back to the castle in the morning. She wrapped her cloak around her against the cold, wished them a Merry Christmas, and let Tilly open the front door for her.

She collided with a wall.

“Umph,” the wall said, and clasped her elbow to keep her from falling.

“Gilbert!” Miranda said.

“Hello,” he replied, looking at her with a bemused smile.

“Have you news?” she whispered.

“Come outside,” he whispered back.

But Tilly's mother came to see who it was on her doorstep. “Good afternoon, sir.”

“This gentleman is a guest at the castle, Mum,” Tilly said.

Mrs. Parry smiled. “Then do come in, please, sir. Have a cup of tea. You look half-perished from the cold! Tilly, take his hat and brush the snow off of it.”

There was nothing to do but allow the good woman to lead them into her modest parlor and wait while she put the kettle on.

“This is Mr. Fielding,” Miranda introduced him. “And this is Mrs. Parry.”

“What brings you to Carrington at this time of the year, sir, if I might ask?” Mrs. Parry said. “Are you here for the wedding? We haven't even had a chance to do more than offer the briefest of congratulations this afternoon, since her ladyship has so many calls to pay.”

She turned to Miranda and smiled. “Those of us who knew you as a girl are looking forward to seeing you as a bride. I remember you trooping over the fells with a pack of puppies and squirrels and odd creatures following you wherever you went. Will you ride through the village with your new husband?”

Miranda bit her lip. “There isn't going to be—”

Gilbert squeezed her hand. “I can promise she will, Mrs. Parry. We wouldn't miss driving through the village on our wedding day.”

Miranda felt her heart stop, then start again. Heat that had nothing to do with the fire flooded her face. She looked at Gilbert, read Carrington's answer in his eyes. He looked like a man in love, proud and happy. “She will make a beautiful bride, don't you think?”

Mrs. Parry's jaw dropped. “You can't mean that you are—” She set a hand to her chest. “
You
are Lady Miranda's husband-to-be?”

Miranda's “He is” and Gilbert's “I am” came out together.

Mrs. Parry blinked and looked from one to the other. Then she smiled and she dabbed tears from her eyes.

“Tilly, why didn't you say?” she called to her daughter in the kitchen. The maid appeared, looking baffled.

Gilbert grinned. “You are the first to know, Mrs. Parry.”

“The very first?”

“It's a very complicated story, I'm afraid,” Gilbert said.

“But it has a happy ending,” Miranda sighed.

Mrs. Parry and Tilly got out the currant wine, and insisted on toasting the happy couple. The good woman opened a dower chest in the corner of the room and fished out a pair of wooden spoons as a wedding gift. Then she found a long red woolen muffler. “You'll take this as well to please me, sir. It's cold outside, and you've come out without even an overcoat. Love can only warm the bones so much.”

Gilbert wound the muffler around his neck with many thanks, and they went out into the snowy afternoon.

“Mrs. Parry's house was my last stop. We can go back to the castle,” she said shyly. “I trust you rode here?”

He nodded. “It's lovely country. I couldn't wait. I had to come and find you.”

She grinned. “Tie your horse to the back of the sled, and ride with me.”

She piled furs on their laps until they were nearly buried in them. “Mrs. Parry is quite right. What were you thinking to come out without a cloak or a coat?”

He leaned over and kissed her gently, stilling her hands. “You. I was thinking of you, and I was more than warm enough.”

They set off through the silent, snow-filled woods. The sky was slate gray, low and heavy with the threat of more snow.

“Stop here please, Wilkins,” Miranda said, and the driver pulled the horse to a stop.

“It's going to snow, my lady,” he protested, pointing to his foot, where the famous bunions resided.

“We'll only be a moment. I want to show Mr. Fielding the waterfall.”

“A pretty spot at any time of year,” the coachman said pleasantly. “And it should be a little while yet before the snow comes.”

G
ilbert let Miranda take his hand and lead him through the snow, moving with confidence in the familiar landscape, though the narrow path that followed the edge of the river was almost invisible under the snow.

“There, see?” she breathed at last.

The waterfall poured over shining rocks into the pool beneath. Ice formed long draperies around the cascade: white, silver, and blue—half lace, half satin.

“Isn't it beautiful?” she asked, but he was looking at her with her pink cheeks, the long lock of hair that had escaped her coiffure, the frost on the edge of her fur-lined hood. He reached into his pocket for the ring and dropped to one knee in the snow.

“I haven't had the chance to ask you properly yet. Miranda, will you marry me?”

She smiled, and fell to her knees as well. “Yes,” she said. “Oh Gilbert, yes.”

She pulled off her glove and he slid the ring onto her finger. “It's half the size of Kelton's ring,” he said. “But someday I shall—”

“Don't you dare! This is the only ring I want!” She threw her arms around his neck with a whoop of joy, knocking them both over into the snow, laughing and kissing. They stayed there, the laughter fading and the kisses growing more passionate. How was it possible, he marveled, that he could feel such heat in the cold December woods? It seemed like magic.

She sighed and squirmed beneath him. “I can't wait for our wedding night,” she sighed. “And every night after.”

“Nor can I, but Wilkins is probably frozen to his perch by now. Let's go back to the castle, and you can make me a cup of warmed wine.”

She laughed and let him pull her to her feet, brush the snow away. “I'm afraid by the time we get home, most of the family will be there. There'll be champagne, and congratulations, and a wedding to plan. Did Carrington say when it would be?”

Gilbert paused. He hadn't even thought to ask. “I—”

She took his arm, kissed him again. “Never mind. We'll decide when we're warm. No doubt Marianne will have opinions to share.” She stopped walking, turned to him. “I don't want to wait. I want to marry you as soon as possible.”

He kissed her again. “Nor do I. Is tomorrow soon enough?”

“Tomorrow would be perfect,” she sighed. “But only because it can't be today.”

M
arianne jumped to her feet as her sister entered the library. “Miranda!” she cried, “Thank heavens! We were about to send out a search party for you.” She pulled her sister into her arms. “I am so sorry. If we had been here, we might have convinced Carrington to see things our way.”

“Marianne,” Adam began, but she ignored him.

“Are you very sad?” she asked her sister.

“Not at all, I am—”

“Brave girl!” Marianne said.

Phineas came across the room and caught his eldest sister's sleeve. “Marianne, there's something you should see. Two things, actually.”

He picked up Miranda's left hand, and held the ring in front of her nose. “And I think you'll find Gilbert is standing right behind her.”

“I stopped to ask Goodwin to bring champagne,” Gilbert explained. “Good evening, countess.” He bowed to the assembled company, but he was suddenly surrounded by all the Archer siblings and their mates—kissing him, shaking his hand, wishing him happy, welcoming him. They looked as happy as he was.

He linked his arm through Miranda's, not willing to let her away from his side.

“I think you should marry on Christmas Eve,” Marianne was saying.

“Too much to do!” Phineas protested. “We must go out and gather the greens, find a Yule log, and decorate the Castle. There won't be time for a wedding.”

“You sound as if you haven't got a romantic bone in your body!” Isobel scolded her husband. He grinned at her and she blushed. “What about tomorrow?”

Marianne was pacing, and not listening. “Perhaps we can do it the day after Christmas, then—the day of the ball.”

“The staff will be busy with the party, and the guests,” Miranda said. “Is tomorrow—”

“The day of the ball is rather public, don't you think? And three hundred people will not even fit inside the chapel,” Phineas said. “Shouldn't it be just family? None of us have had public weddings.”

“I think—” Miranda began again, but Marianne sighed.

“We haven't considered the gown, what she'll wear. That could take weeks.” She looked at her sister and Gilbert. “Would you be willing to wait until spring?”

“No,” Gilbert said.

“Tomorrow,” Miranda added again, more insistently.

“Tomorrow?” Marianne spluttered. “But there's a license to see to, banns to be called, preparations to be made.”

“Considering that the bride's grandfather is the Duke of Carrington, will anyone gainsay him if he wishes to see Miranda married here, now?” Adam asked. “We can worry about the details later.”

“Adam's right.” Phineas said, grinning. “Tomorrow.”

“What about a gown?” Marianne asked.

“Surely we can lend her something suitable,” Isobel suggested. “Did you bring something grand for the ball?”

“Yes, but not grand enough for a wedding!” Marianne replied.

“Mother's wedding gown is upstairs, packed away,” Miranda said. “I used to try it on when I was alone and bored on rainy days.” She turned to Gilbert. “And this is exactly what I imagined.”

Isobel smiled. “It sounds perfect.”

“Indeed it does. We'll tell Grandfather and Great-Aunt Augusta at dinner.”

“And now, a toast to the perfect couple!” Marianne said. “And may I say I knew it all along!”

 

C
HAPTER
S
IXTEEN

M
iranda stood in front of the mirror in the duchess's apartments. Her mother's gown, cream and blue, was perfect. Marianne's eyes glowed as she watched Annie fuss with the lace around the scooped neckline and retie the ribbons under the bodice with nervous fingers.

“I have something for you,” Marianne said, and clasped the sapphire necklace around Miranda's neck. “Perfect. I believe only an Archer bride can carry off a piece this magnificent.”

“Mother's necklace! Oh, Marianne, where did you find it?” Miranda asked with tears in her eyes. “I thought I'd lost it.”

Isobel smiled. “Oh, do let me tell the story! We were at the theater a few evenings ago. Lord Kelton was there with Lady Endersly, showing not the slightest remorse for the loss of his betrothal, I might add—despite the black eye—and
she
was wearing your necklace. Marianne was not going to allow—”

“
She
had my necklace?” Miranda interrupted. “He must have taken it off my neck when he kissed me. How did he get a black eye?”

Marianne helped put the veil over Miranda's head, affixing it with the Carrington tiara. “I think I'll let Gilbert tell you that part. Pillow talk, perhaps, about how he played the hero and rescued your earrings from the dastardly Kelton.”

“My earrings, too?”

“It seems Lord Kelton has light fingers, and a taste for shiny things that do not belong to him. There's currently some questions being asked about a stick pin Kelton wore recently that the Duchess of Paston says came from a bracelet she thought was lost after an evening in Kelton's company,” Marianne said. “It's quite a scandal.”

“And my necklace?” Miranda looked at Isobel.

“Ah, yes. At the interval, Marianne decided to pay a visit to Lord Kelton and his ladybird. He took one look at Marianne's face, and his own went as pale as death out of sheer terror. He turned and took the necklace off Anthea Endersly, right there in the theater, and gave it to Marianne. They left without a word, but the
ton
saw the whole thing. You and Marianne are being celebrated as true heroines, while Kelton is the villain!”

Miranda smiled at Marianne, who was blushing. “What are sisters for?” Marianne murmured.

There was a knock at the door and Carrington entered. His lined face softened as he regarded his granddaughter. “Your parents would have been so very proud,” he said. “You've grown up into a remarkable woman. Are you happy?”

She squeezed his hand. “Yes, Grandfather. I couldn't be happier.”

“If anything goes wrong, if at any time you find yourself unhappy, then you may come home.”

“Thank you, Grandfather, but I cannot live without Gilbert. Or you, or Marianne, or Phin. I hope I shall come home to Carrington often—with Gilbert, and our children.”

He tucked her hand under his arm. “Shall we go?”

But she was already heading toward the door.

“A
re you sure you know what you're getting into, marrying an Archer lady?” Adam asked Gilbert as Carrington's valet tied his cravat. “You'll be driven to distraction, bedeviled at every turn, irritated, and inconvenienced. When Archer ladies venture out, scandal and mayhem follow, and good sense remains at home.”

Gilbert swallowed.

“And,” Adam went on, “you'll discover that you are one of the luckiest men on earth. They are loyal, outspoken, elegant, beautiful, seductive creatures.”

Phineas entered the room. “Goodwin asked one of the footmen to take a look at the sapphires. He was able to take a pair of Isobel's earrings and change the settings, so they are no longer cufflinks.”

Gilbert took them. “She'll be pleased.”

Phineas grinned. “She'll never take them off again, if I know Miranda—especially when she hears how you rescued them from Kelton's clutches. Are you ready?”

Gilbert nodded, and the three gentlemen—two nobly born, one noble by nature—strode down the hall to the chapel.

E
very space in the chapel was full. The servants wanted to catch a glimpse of the bride, and wish her well. They had lovingly decorated the space with ivy and red and white roses from the conservatory.

Gilbert was waiting for her at the altar, with Adam and Phineas by his side. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, her heart full. She heard the murmurs as she walked up the aisle with her grandfather that she was beautiful, and lucky, and that he was handsome.

Carrington set her hand in Gilbert's and she pledged to honor to the man she loved.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of congratulations, celebrations, and festivities.

“We have gifts,” Phineas announced at dinner. He nodded to Goodwin, and the butler beckoned a footman who brought in a basket tied with a blue ribbon.

The basket squirmed. Then it barked.

Miranda opened it. “A puppy!” she cried, cuddling it to her cheek. Gilbert scratched the sleek brown head and chuckled.

“It's for Gilbert, actually,” Phineas said.

“For me?” Gilbert asked, looking at his friend.

“Do you like dogs?”

“Of course. Until I met Miranda, I had never had better company than that of a dog.”

Miranda looked at her brother with a wistful smile. “Is he good enough, Phineas?”

He kissed her cheek. “Perfect.”

Adam rose. “Marianne and I would like to offer the gift of Salvation, restored.” he said.

“Salvation?” Augusta asked, frowning. “What an odd thing to offer at a wedding. Perhaps you mean felicitations?”

“Salvation is a horse, Great-Aunt,” Miranda said, “Gilbert's horse.” She looked at her brother-in-law for an explanation.

“Your husband found it necessary to part with Salvation in order to buy a ring,” Adam said. “I took the liberty of buying him back, and he is yours once again.”

“I can't say I've heard of anyone receiving a horse as a wedding present, either,” Augusta grumbled. “Is it a tradition in your family, perhaps, dear boy?” she asked Gilbert.

“The perfect wife, a good dog, and a noble horse represent the beginnings of a perfect family, Lady Augusta,” Gilbert said graciously, and shook Adam's hand.

Miranda sat by Gilbert's side throughout the rest of the evening, listening to her siblings banter over plans to collect the Yule log and mistletoe the following day. She barely heard them.

Under the table, Gilbert clasped her hand, and she was aware of his body against hers—every breath he took in or let out. She felt his shoulder, his hip and thigh and knee resting on hers, warm and reassuring. She listened to the sound of his laughter, watched the candlelight turn his brown hair to copper. He belonged here—with her, and with her family—and they had welcomed him with open hearts. She loved them all.

As the hours passed, and the warm conversation continued, she felt a frisson of frustration. Didn't anyone realize it was her wedding night? Would they ever stop talking?

She caught Adam watching her, and felt hot color bloom over her cheeks at her thoughts. Then Adam yawned loudly, something the very proper earl would never do in company ordinarily. He did it for her, Miranda realized, and for Gilbert. She smiled at him.

“It's been a very long day, and since tomorrow is Christmas Eve, and promises to be even longer, perhaps we should all retire for the night,” Adam said.

Miranda felt her blush heat everything from her toes to her hairline as everyone turned to look at her. Suddenly, anticipation turned to nerves, tied her stomach in a knot, and made her heart start to thump.

“Care for a drink before we go up, Gilbert?” Phineas asked casually. Too casually.

“I could certainly do with a whisky,” Marianne murmured, but Isobel poked her. “Come, let's go up, Miranda.”

“Are you nervous?” Marianne whispered in the gallery. The questions rolled along the hall, echoed back, and Miranda felt as if every portrait of every Archer ancestor had turned to stare at her, wondering the same thing. The fourth duke looked disapproving. The third duchess was smiling with mischief.

She paused in front of the painting of her mother. She smiled down at her daughters with pride and love. “Your eyes are so like hers,” Marianne said. “I think she'd be glad to see us all so happy,” Marianne said.

They walked on, past the fifth duke, and Carrington himself. “Do you have questions about—anything?” Marianne asked.

Miranda glanced at her. Her outspoken sister had chosen a strange time to turn up shy. She was actually blushing.

She squeezed Marianne's hand, shook her head. She wanted this, wanted Gilbert, in every possible way.

Marianne let out the breath she was holding, and smiled. They paused at the door of Miranda's room. “Annie can get me undressed,” she said.

Marianne hugged her. “He's the perfect match for you, if I do say so myself. I'll see you in the morning.”