Eternally Yours: Roxton Letters Volume 1 (11 page)

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Authors: Lucinda Brant

Tags: #Georgian, #romance, #Roxton, #Series, #Eighteenth, #Century, #England, #18th

BOOK: Eternally Yours: Roxton Letters Volume 1
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But now I have another worry, and, Martin, you must be truthful when you see M’sieur le Duc, and tell me if you think him altered and perhaps not as well-looking since you saw him at Christmastime. He will not tell me what is the matter, and says it is nothing. That he having turned two-and-sixty it is natural to have more regular visits from his physicians. But I know he is hiding something from me! I know it! You tell me—when was the last time he did not go for an early morning ride, if not before breakfast, then mid-morning at least? And these past three months he has only been in the saddle a dozen times or less. And his breathing is not as it should be. Though he does his best to hide it from me! Me! Why? Why should he suddenly start hiding things from me when he has never done so before? So you will be truthful when you see him and tell me that I am not imagining that he is a little out of breath and looking tired

Of course, it could all be because of the great strain on him of this ridiculous court case and accusations against Julian, that it presses upon his mind. I too am out of breath, but from anger to think a Farmer-General has the impudence to take my son to court, and for a thing I know he did not commit. To think it is all over the newssheets here and they allow such slander to be printed is even beyond what the English newssheets would permit. I am convinced there is some deeper purpose to this than just a silly little girl’s infatuation for my son, and a Farmer-General’s wish to elevate his family into the ranks of the nobility—two things that are as likely to happen as cows flying past my window!

You tell me our son is incapable of such actions as are described in the French press, that he is too honorable, and has too much pride, that it would never enter his head to want to seduce any girl, least of all one of the bourgeoisie. And you know our son as well as his parents! I think you also know too that Julian he is a prude and morally chaste. Had not M’sieur le Duc confided in me about our son’s affair with that Russian diplomat’s pretty wife, me I would think him completely ignorant of the bedroom when he went on his honeymoon! But I am glad he was not, for his wife’s sake. Which leads me to tell you that I treasure the letter you sent us upon Julian’s return from Cumbria with Deborah.

It made us very happy to know that finally they are truly husband and wife. That he whisked her off to the wilds of Lake Windermere for a proper honeymoon bodes well for the start of their marriage, yes? That you tell me our daughter-in-law is in love with Julian makes me feel much better about the union. As you know I was very unhappy that Renard married off Julian in such a way, and had Deborah not turned out to be to his liking, or he to hers, then I would have gladly seen them separated before the union it had been consummated.

That matters have not taken the turn we had hoped, with Deborah remaining in England, for what I believe is stubbornness, I cannot blame her. She has every right to her anger at Julian for deceiving her about his nobility. Why did he not find a moment while on the honeymoon to confess all to her? There is no better place than the marital bed for such a confession, and so I am mystified why my son he was not capable of such lover’s talk with his bride? But he is young, and I suspect quite bashful, so he has still much to learn about being a lover and a husband that only self-confidence and time will rectify. I will not be an interfering mother, and pray they can sort the matter out between them, and before M’sieur le Duc he becomes truly angry with the behavior of both. I am all sympathy for his frustration with Julian’s high-mindedness, but it is best he is his own man, and so I have told Renard.

Please do hurry to us. Henri-Antoine asks after his Uncle Martin. Julian could do with your wise counsel, for it is another voice to make him see reason. And Renard and I must have your support for the ordeal that is to come with the court case. And of course, Vallentine would not feel loved if I did not tease him and you support me to his detriment!

Bon voyage, mon cher et bon ami
,

Antonia Roxton

S
IXTEEN

The Most Honorable Marquess of Alston, Hotel Roxton, Rue St. Honoré, Paris, France, to Mr. Martin Ellicott, Esq., Moran House, the Bath Road, Avon, England.

Hotel Roxton, Rue St. Honoré, Paris

October, 1770

Dearest Martin, I have a son! A healthy baby boy who is perfect in every way, with a mop of dark hair and a pair of fine working lungs! His lusty cries are a joy to the ear, even at four in the morning, when he wakes his mamma and papa demanding to be fed. I do not mind in the least, and as Deb has insisted on suckling our son, he spends most of his time in bed with us, much to the consternation of Tante Estée, who cannot understand why we have not employed a wet nurse, and why, in the name of all that is sacred, we would want a screaming and demanding (her words, not mine) infant near us all the time.

But I cannot stop looking at him. I am still dazed with happiness to think he is mine, and I am a father. You can well imagine how dearest Papa feels to know there are now two generations to follow him.

But let me tell you that Deb is very well indeed. She endured a long labor, which I am told is normal with first pregnancies. And though she cursed me roundly, and I deserved it all, she was the bravest girl imaginable and is recovering very well indeed. The physician said it was a comparatively easy labor, all things considered, which bodes well for future pregnancies. Oh, it is not me you should scold for thinking of the children yet to come. It was Deb who was very pleased with herself, telling me what the physician had said to her!

Would it shock you to know I was with Deb throughout her ordeal? It was the most wondrous experience. I was fraught with such anxiety when her pains came on, and was suffering the agony of hearing her cries from the other side of the door, not knowing what was happening to her, and if she were in any danger. I think I paced the Turkey rug to threads!

It is all very well in hindsight to know Deb’s cries were normal and not a sign she was in any danger, but at the time I was feeling utterly useless with all sorts of horrific imaginings going through my head that I thought I would faint. And then Papa said the most startling thing to me. He asked why I wasn’t in there supporting my wife at such a time, and did I not want to witness the birth of my son? He would not have missed the experience of being at my birth for the world. My head nearly snapped off its neck at that, I can tell you. I must have glared at him like he had two heads, and it took Mamma laughing at me and telling me to stop being a block of wood, and to get in there with Deborah before it was too late. That was all the push I needed!

We have broken with tradition and given our son three names unrelated to the Roxton side of the family. Frederick, for Mamma’s papa; George, for Deb’s father; and Martin, for you,
mon parrain
. I hope you are as pleased with our son’s names as we are, and indeed, as Papa and Mamma are, too.

To see Frederick cradled in his grandfather’s arms brings tears to my eyes, for Papa’s face takes on a healthy glow, there is that twinkle in his eye, and he looks his old self. Of course Mamma is completely smitten, and she is such a natural mother that she is already Frederick’s firm favorite. Naturally, Henri-Antoine and Jack are ambivalent, and to see the boys screw up their noses and look at each other in mutual horror when Frederick begins to fuss, as if a baby’s cries were akin to the plague, has all of us laughing heartily. How I wish you were here with us, and look forward to you joining us at Treat for Christmastime, and the christening.

Everyone sends their love. Deb in particular asked to be remembered to you.

A bientôt, mon cher parrain
,

Julian

F
AMILY
T
REE

If your eReader does not support enlarging this image, view the
Midnight Marriage
family tree at lucindabrant.com

A
UTUMN
D
UCHESS
L
ETTERS

A
UTUMN
D
UCHESS
L
ETTERS

17. 
His Grace The Most Noble Duke of Roxton to The Honorable Julian, Marquess of Alston

18. 
Roxton to Antonia—his last letter

19. 
Antonia Roxton diary entry

20. 
Deborah Roxton to Lady Mary Cavendish

21. 
Mr. Christopher Bryce to His Grace The Most Noble Duke of Roxton

22. 
Mr. Charles Fitzstuart to Major Lord Fitzstuart

23. 
Mr. Jonathon Strang Leven to Mrs. Charles Fitzstuart

24. 
Antonia Roxton diary entry

Autumn Duchess
Family Tree

S
EVENTEEN

His Grace The Most Noble Duke of Roxton, Treat via Alston, Hampshire, to The Most Honorable Marquess of Alston, Bess House, Lake Windermere, Cumbria.

Treat

November, 1773

My son, I am so proud of you, as a son, as a husband and father, and as a gentleman. You are the man I should have been at your age, but I did not fully embrace my destiny until I met your mother.

You will be a most worthy Duke of Roxton, and a much better nobleman than ever I was. That is as it should be. The next generation should always strive to be better than the last.

I applaud your strength of character to be your own man. You have had the burden of living in my shadow for so many years, and yet you have forged ahead with dignity and purpose to put your own stamp on your life, as you will do with the dukedom. I have every confidence in you upholding a legacy that stretches back to Good Queen Bess. Long after you are gone, your descendants will remember you as a good and moral man, and an exemplary duke. I could ask for no finer man to succeed me.

You must not grieve excessively at my passing. You have a duty to look always to the future. That is our lot in life. For those of us born the eldest and who hold in trust great names and great estates for future generations, we cannot afford the luxury of being maudlin. We can look back with fondness and to ensure we do not repeat the mistakes of our forebears, but we must never look back with regret. It is our responsibility and obligation to look forward, to secure a brighter future for our sons.

In Deborah you have been blessed with a good, loving and devoted wife. She has given you three fine sons in as many years, and will give you more, of that I am convinced. For these reasons alone, she is deserving of your devotion. But you know as well as I that for a marriage to succeed it must be a true partnership. Your wife’s personal happiness is paramount, as is investing in the time you share together, and as a family. Only in this way will your marriage remain strong, and serve you both and your children well in times of distress and sadness.

I came late to love and to marriage. I do not regret my earlier life, but every day since I wed your mother I have only looked forward, not back, and lived each day a little in awe of my good fortune.

I have no qualms in departing this earth when God deems me ready to enter the kingdom of Heaven. I know in my heart that I will see you again in the next life, where I will be waiting for you, and for my family to join me, but most of all, waiting for your mother to be with me for eternity.

You knew I could not write you a final letter without mentioning her.

Your mother is the sun and we merely the planets that revolve around her. She is the giver of light and warmth and unconditional love. Without her we would be living in a cold, dark place.

The irony is that with my passing you will, for a time, live in this cold, dark place. Your mother will suffer the loss of me most keenly, so keenly that I worry for her sanity. Just thinking about such a consequence has kept me from breathing my last, to the astonishment and confounding of my physicians, who look to the physical signs of my deterioration without taking into account that my mind is resilient and tenacious. It will simply not listen to learned medical opinion and shall continue to have command over my body until my heart or my lungs or both can no longer do as they are ordered, and I do, indeed, stop breathing.

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