Chapter Fifteen
Nicholas allowed himself a few days in which to bask in the pleasure of being among his family again.
Perhaps now, more than ever, when his life was about to change irrevocably, he valued what he had and realized just how much he had always taken it for granted.
It was wonderful indeed to be a Ware of Ravenswood, to belong, to have a mother and siblings and their growing families and a larger family of grandparents, uncles, aunts, and cousins.
And a neighborhood of friends and friendly acquaintances.
Winifred’s stark story of her own origins had struck home. For he understood that having a loving family now did not make up for what had been missed during her first nine years of life.
A few of his siblings had their own lives far away and quite separate from life here, of course, as he did.
He had never been sorry that he was the son intended for a military career.
Even at his darkest moments—and there had been more than a few of them during the war years—he had never doubted that he was living the life he wanted to live.
But this week his family was to be all together.
It was time to be cherished. And there was the summer fete to look forward to, to help with, to enjoy—but to face with a certain misgiving too, for it would mark the time after which his life would never be the same again.
For no later than that day he was going to have to formalize the connection with Grace.
And then he was going to make the best of it.
He was, after all, a man of honor. But in the meanwhile, he gave himself permission to relax and enjoy each moment.
Ben and Jennifer were the first to arrive, with Miss Delmont, Ben’s elderly aunt, his mother’s sister, who lived with them, and their children, Joy, now ten—was it possible?
—four-year-old Robert, and two-year-old Belinda.
Ben was the brother to whom Nicholas owed the fact that he still had two legs instead of one.
They hugged each other warmly after Devlin and Gwyneth had had their turn.
In the meantime, Jennifer’s wheeled chair had been taken down from a second carriage and Ben lifted her into it while Devlin helped Miss Delmont to alight.
The three children came scrambling after her, Joy already talking, the little one bouncing with excitement, as Nicholas remembered her elder sister doing as soon as she learned to stand.
And somehow Gareth and Bethan and Awen had escaped from the nursery to greet their cousins, bringing Alice and Samuel Cunningham with them.
All was glorious noise and confusion and laughter.
And pure joy to Nicholas.
There were several arrivals the following day.
His Grandmama and Grandpapa Greenfield were first in the late morning.
They had come with Uncle George and Aunt Kitty, who had finally made the decision to live permanently with them since they were finding it increasingly difficult to live alone, even with the help of servants.
Mama was delighted at the prospect of having her brother only ten miles away, especially as Uncle George happened to be married to one of her closest and oldest friends.
These new arrivals had a quieter reception than Ben, with children excluded out of deference to the weariness the grandparents were bound to be feeling.
Mama hugged her parents before Gwyneth and Devlin led them to their rooms, where they could rest for a while before luncheon.
Mama and Aunt Kitty meanwhile hugged and chattered to each other and even squealed a time or two, altogether like a couple of girls, while Matthew and Uncle George grinned at each other and shook hands.
Nicholas smiled happily at them all and set an arm loosely about Stephanie’s shoulders. She was reveling in all this as much as he was.
She was nowhere to be seen, however, an hour or so later when Bertrand Lamarr, Viscount Watley, arrived.
He had been Owen’s friend since their university days.
Although he lived a quiet life on his country estate for most of the year, alone since the marriage of his twin sister to the Earl of Brandon a year or so ago, he and Owen had kept up their friendship.
He had come here now almost directly from his sister’s home in Northamptonshire, where he had gone to see her new baby.
He shook Gwyneth and Devlin firmly by the hand and turned to Owen and Nicholas just as Mrs. Cunningham came hurrying from the house and almost hurled herself into his arms. She was, of course, Watley’s stepsister.
“Bertrand,” she cried. “Looking as handsome as ever. And just returned from Northamptonshire. How is Estelle? I take it all is well despite the baby’s early arrival.
She is over the moon with delight over her first child, I expect.
And Justin too. I want to hear all about them. The baby is David? What a lovely name.”
He laughed as he hugged her back. “Will you allow me a few moments to catch my breath, Camille?” he said.
“I will say, though, without any bias at all, that my nephew must be the handsomest baby ever born. You are looking very fine, I must say. Glowing, in fact. And here come Joel and Winnie. The country air must be agreeing with you all.”
And then, in the late afternoon, Pippa arrived with Lucas, Duke of Wilby, her husband, and their three children, twins Emily and Christopher, now seven, and Pamela, four.
Yesterday’s merriment replayed itself, though Pamela hid behind her father, an arm wrapped about his leg, and refused to show her face.
“She is shy,” Pippa said unnecessarily. “Just give her time.”
They had brought a nurse with them to help with the care of the children, a real blessing as there were many children here.
Pippa was the next sibling in age to Nicholas and had always been exquisitely lovely, with her blond hair and delicately complexioned face.
It looked as if Pamela would closely resemble her, though Pippa had always been an outgoing girl.
She had had to be, with three older brothers.
She was so happy to be home for a short while, she told them.
And just look at Joy, all skinny and long limbed.
And at Robert, who had been born only days after his cousin Pamela.
And oh, yes, at Belinda, who at barely two years old still had not shed the adorable chubbiness of babyhood.
She swept her niece up into her arms and kissed one plump cheek.
Lucas meanwhile was hugging Jennifer, who had come outside to meet them, using her crutches instead of her wheeled chair.
She was Lucas’s sister. She had surprised the fashionable world when she, the granddaughter and sister of a duke, permanently lame as the result of a crippling childhood illness, married Ben, illegitimate son of the Earl of Stratton, and went to live with him in a modest manor on a smallish estate close to the sea thirty miles away.
But the two appeared to have been happy ever since.
Nicholas hugged his sister and the twins and shook Lucas by the hand before the two children went dashing off with an assortment of Wares and Cunninghams and Ellises in the direction of the hill and the temple.
They all seemed to find plenty to shriek about even before they rounded the corner of the west wing.
Lucas picked up his youngest child while the nurse supervised the unloading of the children’s baggage from the carriage in which she had traveled with Pippa’s maid and Lucas’s valet.
And they were all present and accounted for.
Matthew’s relatives had arrived earlier, his brother and wife to stay at the cottage, his nephew and family to squeeze into the rooms above the smithy.
There was room for them all at the cottage and certainly at Ravenswood Hall, but apparently they all considered a few days spent in those rooms a special treat.
Stephanie was coaxing Pamela out of her father’s arms and distracted the child by taking her to the edge of the terrace and pointing at the sheep down in the meadow.
Nicholas smiled down at Belinda Ellis, who was watching them, and she opened her arms to him, wanting to come up.
And what a crowning joy it was in these dizzyingly busy days, Nicholas thought as he picked the child up and took her to join Stephanie, to hold a chubby child who was still little more than a baby, and to feel her hand about his neck while she bounced in his arms and pointed at the sheep.
“Shall we go a little closer?” Stephanie said, and stepped out onto the grass.
Why, oh why had he not married and had children of his own long before now? But it was not too late. Although he was about to marry a woman who was close to thirty and he was past that age, there was still plenty of time to have children. Plural. A family of his own. A family of their own.
Grace would want children too.
She had greeted his siblings and their spouses as well as his grandparents with her customary courtesy and charm.
She seemed happy to see Uncle George and Aunt Kitty and Bertrand, with all of whom she already had an acquaintance.
Mrs. Haviland was everything that was gracious, and General Haviland beamed about him with genial goodwill.
He looked like a man who thoroughly approved of the family into which his daughter was about to marry.
Meanwhile, in the house and in the village, busy preparations were being made for the upcoming festivities on Saturday.
Tables were being set up about the perimeter of the courtyard for the displays of needlework and baking, and a gaily striped tent was being erected in the northeast corner for the fortune-teller.
More tables were ready on the terrace for the wood carvings—and one stone carving.