Deryn Lake: Death at the Wedding Feast

‘How nice!’

‘And of course his wife had died just a few months previously after many years of being an invalid. Poor darling, I don’t know how he coped with all those weeks when he tended her lovingly.’

‘He had a nurse to help him,’ put in Lady Sidmouth with a touch of acerbity.

Miranda’s eyes dropped once more. ‘Yes, of course.’

John thought most unkindly about the enormous wealth to be gained and the huge estate and all that went with it — fawning servants, splendid food, great occasions at which the beautiful Miranda would be belle-of-the-ball — and wondered that anyone could be taken in by her duplicity. He caught the canny eye of Lady Sidmouth and just for a moment read the same sentiments there.

The door opened and Milady’s youngest daughter, Felicity, walked in. Though not exactly good looking she had improved during the few months that John had not seen her and was nowadays carrying herself with more dignity and poise. Having obtained her breakfast and seated herself at the large table, she turned to John.

‘The twins are really sweet. I popped in and looked at them before I came down. How much longer are they staying?’ She turned to her mother.

‘That rather depends on Dr Hunter. He will call and examine the Lady Elizabeth today. It will be on his pronouncement that we will await.’

‘I am sure that the Marchesa will be anxious to return home and get into a routine with Jasper and James as soon as possible. Notwithstanding the generosity of your hospitality, Lady Sidmouth.’

‘Nonsense, I’d have done the same for any of my friends. Not that my other friends are as likely to get into the identical sort of mischief as Lady Elizabeth, I might add.’

John laughed while the two girls tittered into their teacups.

‘Well, we owe you a million thanks, none the less. But you will soon need to clear the place of guests if you are preparing a big wedding. I take it it’s going to be celebrated here?’

‘Indeed it is,’ Lady Sidmouth answered cheerfully. ‘The ceremony will be conducted in St Swithin’s Church nearby and the breakfast will be held at the bride’s home, which is this house.’

‘I cannot think of a more beautiful setting,’ said John, meaning it. ‘Are you having many guests?’

‘The world and his wife,’ said Lady Sidmouth before Miranda interrupted, ‘Beg pardon, Cousin.’

The older woman inclined her head and Miranda went on, ‘Montague’s family is quite large. He has an unmarried granddaughter who is dying to find a husband. Then he has two grandsons, Viscount Falmouth and Lord George. They are the children of Montague’s son, who died when they were all quite young. They all hate me because they think I might present Montague with another baby and they wouldn’t like that at all.’

‘Why?’ asked John. ‘The oldest boy is bound to inherit everything, isn’t he?’

‘Yes, unless he dies of course.’

The Apothecary’s mobile eyebrows rose in surprise. ‘Surely he is not sickly?’

‘Not he,’ chimed in Felicity, ‘he’s as fit as a pudding for a friar’s mouth. And he’s a clever devil too, always striding round with a book in his hand. All in all I think he’s a crimping fellow.’

‘There’s no need to be rude,’ Miranda retorted. ‘I know he’s not handsome but he’s — clever and kind.’

‘Kind be blowed. If he would just remove his beastly spectacles it might improve his looks.’

‘Well, he’s going to be my step-grandson so I won’t hear another word.’ Miranda giggled. ‘Though secretly I rather agree with you.’

Lady Sidmouth opened her mouth to protest but John forestalled her. ‘And what about the younger brother? What’s he like?’

Again Felicity spoke before Miranda had a chance to answer. ‘He’s a handsome thing. As unlike his brother as chalk is to cheese. He’s tall, dark, never wears a wig and his hair reaches his collar. He’s a regular dashing blade and doesn’t he just know it.’

John smiled. The word-picture had completely conjured up the man. He wondered vaguely if Felicity ought to write.

‘Well,’ Miranda said, somewhat defensively, ‘the grandson may be handsome but the grandfather is by far the most debonair.’

‘I can’t wait to meet him,’ stated John, his voice free of expression.

‘Well, you shall,’ said Miranda, smiling sweetly. ‘We are giving an assembly a few nights before the wedding. You must come — and the Lady Elizabeth, if she is sufficiently recovered.’

‘I am quite sure she will be,’ John answered. ‘And I thank you.’

Lady Sidmouth spoke up. ‘You must both come to the wedding — and dear old Sir Clovelly Lovell. He is quite one of my favourite people.’

‘And mine too,’ said the Apothecary.

‘Well, I shall be sending out the invitations shortly. And you are all three added to my list.’

‘Excellent,’ said John, and paid serious attention to his breakfast.

Dr Hunter proclaiming himself well pleased with the healing process of Elizabeth’s scar, she and John left the glorious house on the cliff-tops exactly five days later. There was much to-do about their leaving. First Elizabeth was handed into her coach, then one baby followed, howling his head off and not enjoying this change in his routine. He was put into the arms of a nurserymaid who immediately calmed him by rocking him, somewhat wildly, from side to side. Another coach was pulled up behind the first and John got into this, was briefly handed the baby, before a second nurserymaid followed. This second child — was it Jasper or James, John wondered? — slept peacefully through the whole ordeal and did not wake until they reached Elizabeth’s home, when he opened his eyes and gave a great yawn.

‘Which child is this?’ John asked Elizabeth anxiously.

She peered into his face. ‘Why, this is James. He has less hair than Jasper. Besides Jasper is the noisier of the two. If anyone is going to cry it will be Jasper.’

‘May I hold them a minute?’

‘Of course you can.’

With a bundle in each arm, John sat down in the Blue Salon and stared at both his sons’ faces intently. He could never have imagined in a thousand years that Elizabeth would give birth to twins. And then he remembered Rose, his first-born child, recently giggling and saying words to the effect of wait and see. She had known, the pretty minx, with her wonderful ability to envisage future events, exactly what was going to happen.

His thoughts switched from his two sons, who were awake but thankfully quiet, to his daughter. Would she love them, he wondered, or might she be jealous of these two rivals for her father’s affection? But then he knew that with her generous, warm heart she would love them as much as he was starting to, would play with them and teach them all the wonderments of the world so that they would grow up as fine a person as she was going to be. He suddenly glowed with happiness, looking down at the little scraps who were looking back at him, and feeling a tremendous sense of well-being and affection. A true family man.

He heard a noise behind him and looked over his shoulder. The two maids, presumably hastily appointed by Elizabeth after she had given birth, were bearing down on him.

‘I’ll take Master Justin, if you please, Sir.’

‘And I’ll take Master James.’

Somewhat reluctantly he handed the twins over and watched them being swept up the grand staircase to their apartments on the first floor. Before following them he sat a moment and imagined Sir Gabriel’s and Rose’s faces when his letter arrived. He had written it the day after he had shown up at Lady Sidmouth’s and knew that it must have been delivered to Kensington by now. No doubt Sir Gabriel would send for champagne and allow Rose a thimbleful. Then they would clink their drinking vessels and toast the newborn. How sad that neither of them would be able to see the boys for some while.