Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Sebastian ran an appreciative hand over the tooled green leather of the inlaid mahogany writing desk and took a steadying breath.
He could hardly bring himself to believe that this desk, like the house itself, now belonged to him.
He picked up the pen and drew a sheet of thick cream paper towards him, wondering how to begin this all-important letter to his brother and sister.
Despite Bennet’s protestations, he insisted on rising from his bed and dressing in his one set of civilian clothes. His jacket now hung on him, reminding him that once again he had diced with death.
As he had lain in the hospital his only thought had been how they would survive on half pay now that the war was truly over. Some strange fate had, for the first time in his life, dealt him an unexpected hand.
He traced the embossed crest with its five-pointed stars at the head of sheet with his finger—the Somerton coat of arms, he presumed – dipped the nib of the pen in the inkstand, and began to write.
My dearest Connie and Matt. I know Bennet sent word to you that I had been wounded at Waterloo and returned to England.
I write now to reassure you that my wound, while unpleasant, is not as bad as last time, and I am well on the road to recovery.
However, I have to admit to you that my recovery is due in no small part to a dramatic turn of events that will astonish you.
I have been informed that I am the heir to Lord Somerton of Brantstone in Lincolnshire, who died some months ago.
He was, it appears, my cousin, and my father his uncle.
I have been provided with solid evidence of my parentage, and I am now resident in the London abode, a small, pleasant house of only some 20 bedrooms (Bennet has counted them).
When the doctors declare me fit for travel, I intend to travel to the family estate at Brantstone Hall and as soon as I am settled I will send for you both to join me but I think it prudent that you allow me a little time to become accustomed to this change in our fortunes and see what needs to be done to make proper provision for you both, and, of course, Mrs. Mead.
I am sure this comes as much a shock to you as it does to me.
My soldiering days are done. I must learn to be a gentleman of the aristocracy. Until we meet, S.
He sanded the letter and folded it, sealing it with wax. A seal, engraved with the same coat of arms, had been placed on the silver stand beside the wax. He picked it up and applied it to the wax, shaking his head in disbelief as he inspected the impression of the Somerton coat of arms.
Rising carefully from the chair, his hand going to his side as the barely healed scar caught, he limped over to the door.
Beyond it, a wide gallery circled around from a broad, sweeping staircase.
Using the balustrade for support, he took the stairs with care, cursing the infernal weakness of ill health.
When he reached the ground floor, he found himself in an elegant, circular entrance hall with a floor of black and white tiles. He turned a slow circle, taking in the elegant Grecian statuary in the alcoves and the fine paintings on the walls.
A number of closed doors, all of which were now his to open, led from the hall.
He took a deep breath, hesitating and, for a moment, closed his eyes.
Surely this magical world would vanish, and it would all be revealed as a fevered dream.
But when he opened his eyes, a white marble statue of Diana and her hounds beamed back at him.
He smiled and put his hand to one of the doorknobs.
The first door revealed a dining room dominated by a long, polished table and the second a handsome reception room. The third revealed a bright, cheerful parlour—a woman’s room, he thought.
‘Captain Alder!’
Lady Somerton rose from a small escritoire as he entered, her eyes wide with surprise.
She wore the same gown of black silk that he had seen her in the previous day, unrelieved except for a white collar, fastened by a black mourning brooch and narrow white cuffs at her wrists.
Her honey-coloured hair had been scraped away from her face and concealed by an ugly cap.
The effect leeched any colour from her face and made her look years beyond her true age, which he guessed to be much of his own years.
Even in the summer light, she appeared pale and forbidding. To effect such severe mourning, he supposed she must have loved her husband very deeply.
‘My apologies, Lady Somerton. I should have knocked. I didn’t mean to intrude.’
He turned for the door but she took a step towards him her hand outstretched.
‘No, no, you are not intruding. Come in and I shall send for some tea. I am only surprised to see you up and about so soon.’
He lowered himself into the chair she proffered, regretting his impetuosity at venturing so far. He had, as usual, overstretched the limits of his body.
He held up the folded paper.
‘I have a letter to send.’
Isabel took it from him without glancing at the address.
‘I shall put it with my letters and it will go this afternoon.’
He thanked her and leaned his head back against the chair, closing his eyes as he gathered his strength to face the stairs again.
‘I sent Bennet on a mission to do some shopping for you, and, if you are up to it, we will arrange for the tailor to come tomorrow,’ Isabel said.
Sebastian opened his eyes and looked down at the frayed cuffs of his only civilian coat. He bit his tongue against the protest that rose to his throat.
Every spare penny of his captain’s pay went to Matt and Connie, leaving nothing for himself. Despite Bennet’s best efforts, even his dress uniform was second-hand and prone to moth holes.
Captain Sebastian Alder had no money to spend on new clothes, but Lord Somerton could hardly appear in public in a coat so old that the black of the fabric had turned to verdigris.
He looked around the bright, sunny room. A glazed door led out into the walled garden he could see from his bedroom window and he longed to throw it open and stride out into the fresh air.
‘Now that you are on the road to recovery, I will arrange for Bragge to meet with you,’ Isabel said.
‘Bragge?’
‘You may not remember him from the hospital, but he was Anthony’s man of business and his father’s before him.
There is nothing he can’t tell you about the Somerton estate.
The lawyers also wish to meet you to explain the details of the entail.
You will have plenty to occupy yourself until you are fit to make the journey. ’
Sebastian frowned. ‘Please forgive me, Lady Somerton, but do you mind if I ask how my cousin died?’
Her lips tightened and she looked down at the cup she was holding.
‘A riding accident. The girth of his saddle broke as he was taking a hedge and he fell. He broke his neck.’
‘I am sorry.’
‘Thank you,’ she responded in a flat voice. A lock of dark blonde hair escaped from her cap, but Isabel made no attempt to restore it or to raise her eyes.
Sebastian considered her for a moment. His concern was with the living, not the dead.
Was it grief or something else? Anthony was dead, just as Inez.
.. He pushed that memory to the dark corners of his mind.
The recent fever had resurrected the old pain, and it gnawed at him like a wound that would not heal.
‘Can you tell me more about yourself, Lady Somerton? Did my cousin leave you provided for?’
She raised her head, regarding him for a moment with clear, grey eyes.
‘Thank you, Lord Somerton, I have a jointure and the use of the dower house. I shall be quite comfortable and indeed, it is my intention to vacate Brantstone Hall once you are settled.’
‘You’ll continue to live in the dower house?’
She nodded and her eyes brightened.
‘As soon as some urgent repairs are complete but I assure you I shall be quite well occupied and do not intend to be of the least bit of trouble to you.’
He smiled, seeing the excitement light up her eyes. ‘And what is it you will be doing to keep yourself so busy?’
‘Now I have my own income, it will be the means of financing a school for the daughters of mill workers in the town I came from.’
As she spoke, he heard an animation in her voice he had not heard before. Something within her seemed to come to life, and a flash of the beauty she could have been, were it not for the drab clothes and severe hairstyle, flashed across her oval face.
When he didn’t respond, the light in her eyes died, and her chin rose in defiance of the objection she no doubt expected him to raise.
‘That sounds like a splendid plan. I look forward to hearing more about it,’ he said, rather too quickly, but, in truth, he had neither the strength nor the interest to pursue the subject further at present.
If the woman wanted to start a school, who was he to argue with her? She seemed ideally suited for the role of school ma’am.
He looked at the pale liquid in the delicate cup she had given him. The cup looked absurd in his large hand. He set it down.
‘Lady Somerton, I assume that my sudden elevation comes with corresponding duties and responsibilities. Apart from yourself, of course, are there others at Brantstone I should know of?’
She straightened in her chair. ‘Firstly, my lord, let me assure you, I am not your responsibility. As to the others, Anthony’s impoverished cousins, Mr. and Miss Lynch, are residents at Brantstone but you owe them no duty or responsibility. Then there is your grandmother ...’
Sebastian raised his head. ‘My grandmother?’
‘On your mother’s side. She lives in the village. There are also three aunts and a large assortment of cousins.’
‘My grandmother?’ Sebastian repeated.
‘It was through her we learned of the possibility of your existence. Finding you was another matter. Is something the matter?’
Sebastian stared at her.
Family? He had family of his own?
He recovered his manners. ‘Forgive me, Lady Somerton. In all my life there has only ever been myself and my brother, and my sister. I can’t even begin to imagine what it will mean to Connie—my sister—to find she has a wider family.’
Isabel looked down at her hands. ‘Having no family of my own, Lord Somerton, I can imagine what a joyous surprise this must be for you.’
‘No family?’
She raised her face, and her gaze met his. ‘None. My parents died when I was a child, and my uncle and aunt, who raised me, are now dead.’
Sebastian thought he should say something, but the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to assure this woman that she would always be welcome in his home and that she was, in his mind anyway, family and under his care and responsibility.
Isabel rose from her seat and fetched an elegant ebony cane from a corner of the room. ‘I found this in a cupboard. It belonged to Anthony. He carried it everywhere. He carried it for affectation, but it seems quite sturdy. I thought you may find it useful in your recuperation.’
Sebastian took the cane, inspecting the carved ivory handle bearing the Somerton coat of arms.
‘That is a kind thought, Lady Somerton. If I am going to go about like a man of eighty, I may as well look the part.’
Isabel smiled, and again he caught an elusive glimpse of the person behind the severe hairstyle and dark dress. As quickly as it had come, it vanished.
He had a dim memory of thinking her the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
In the right gown and with her hair softened, Lady Somerton had the potential of a rare beauty.
He swallowed and reminded himself that, whatever his change in fortune, she would always be the widow of a viscount and he a simple soldier.
With the aid of the cane, he pulled himself to his feet. ‘Lady Somerton, thank you for your kindness to me over the last week.’
She turned back to her desk. ‘Purely self-interest, my lord.’ She looked back at him. ‘If the weather is fine, and you feel up to it, it is my custom to take a walk in Kensington Gardens around four in the afternoon. Would you care to join me?’
‘In a day or two, perhaps,’ Sebastian replied and, with an inclination of his head left her to her letters.
Back in his room, Sebastian found Bennet.
The little corporal had laid out his purchases on the bed and stood back with a pleased grin, like a dog expecting praise for fetching a stick.
Sebastian eyed the stockings, gloves, drawers, shirts, and neckcloths without interest. As he subsided, exhausted, onto a chair, Bennet poured a glass of port and lulled by the warmth of the fire and the alcohol, Sebastian fell asleep.