Mr. Cavendish, I Presume
Page 69
he said, motioning with his arm. “Your grace—my aunt, Mrs. Audley.”
Thomas bowed. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Audley.”
She stammered something in response, clearly non-plussed by the arrival of a duke.
Jack completed the introductions, and the ladies were making their curtsies when Mrs. Audley pulled him aside. She spoke in a whisper, but her tone held enough panic that Thomas could hear every word.
“Jack, I haven’t the rooms. We have nothing grand enough—”
“Please, Mrs. Audley,” Thomas said, dipping his head in a gesture of respect, “do not put yourself out on my accord. It was unforgivable for us to arrive without notice. I would not expect you to go to any great lengths. Although perhaps your finest room for my grandmother.” He tried not to sound too weary as he added, “It will be easier for everyone.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Audley said quickly. “Please, please, it’s chilly. You must all come inside. Jack, I do need to tell you—”
“Where is your church?” the dowager demanded.
Thomas nearly groaned. Could she not wait until they were even shown in?
“Our church? ” Mrs. Audley asked, looking to Jack in complete confusion. “At this hour?”
“I do not intend to worship,” the dowager snapped. “I wish to inspect the records.”
“Does Vicar Beveridge still preside?” Jack asked, clearly trying to cut the dowager off.
“Yes,” his aunt replied, “but he will surely be abed.
It’s half nine, I should think, and he is an early riser.
Perhaps in the morning. I—”
“This is a matter of dynastic importance,” the dowager interrupted. “I don’t care if it’s after midnight.
We—”
“I care,” Jack cut in. “You are not going to pull the vicar out of bed. You have waited this long. You can bloody well wait until morning.”
Thomas wanted to applaud.
“Jack!” Mrs. Audley gasped. She turned to the dowager. “I did not raise him to speak this way.”
“No, you didn’t,” Jack said, but he glared at the dowager.
“You were his mother’s sister, weren’t you?” the dowager said to Mrs. Audley.
Who looked rather startled by the sudden change of topic. “I am.”
“Were you present at her wedding?”
“I was not.”
Jack turned to her in surprise. “You weren’t?”
“No. I could not attend. I was in confinement. I never told you. It was a stillbirth.” Her face softened. “Just one of the reasons I was so happy to have you.”
“We shall make for the church in the morning,” the
dowager declared. “First thing. We shall find the papers and be done with it.”
“The papers?” Mrs. Audley echoed.
“Proof of the marriage,” the dowager practically snarled. “Are you daft?”
That was too much. Thomas reached out and pulled her back, which was probably in her best interest, as Jack looked as if he might go for her throat.
“Louise was not married in the Butlersbridge church,”
Mrs. Audley said. “She was married at Maguiresbridge.
In County Fermanagh, where we grew up.”
“How far is that?” the dowager demanded, tugging at her arm.
Thomas held firm.
“Twenty miles, your grace,” Mrs. Audley replied before turning back to her nephew. “Jack? What is this all about? Why do you need proof of your mother’s marriage?”
Jack hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, “My father was her son,” with a nod toward the dowager.
“Your father,” Mrs. Audley gasped. “John Cavendish, you mean . . . ”
Thomas stepped forward, feeling strangely prepared to take charge of the rapidly deteriorating situation.
“May I intercede?”
Jack nodded in his direction. “Please do.”
“Mrs. Audley,” Thomas said, “if there is proof of your sister’s marriage, then your nephew is the true Duke of Wyndham.”
“The true Duke of—” Mrs. Audley covered her mouth in shock. “No. It’s not possible. I remember him.
Mr. Cavendish. He was—” She waved her arms in the air, as if trying to describe him with gestures. Finally, after several attempts at a more verbal explanation, she said, “He would not have kept such a thing from us.”
“He was not the heir at the time,” Thomas told her.
“Oh, my heavens. But if Jack is the duke, then you—”
“Are not,” he finished wryly. He glanced over at Amelia and Grace, who were watching the entire exchange from just inside the front door. “I am sure you can imagine our eagerness to have this settled.”
Mrs. Audley could only stare at him in shock.
Thomas knew just how she felt.
Amelia wasn’t sure what time it was. Certainly after midnight. She and Grace had been shown to their room several hours earlier, and even though she had long since washed her face and donned her nightclothes, she was still awake.
For a long time she’d lain beneath her blankets, pretending there was some kind of music to Grace’s even, sleep-lulled breathing. Then she’d moved to the window, deciding that if she couldn’t sleep, she might as well have something better to look at than the ceil-ing. The moon was nearly full, its light rendering the stars a bit less twinkly.
Amelia sighed. She had enough trouble picking out the constellations as it was.
Thomas bowed. “I am honored to make your acquaintance, Mrs. Audley.”
She stammered something in response, clearly non-plussed by the arrival of a duke.
Jack completed the introductions, and the ladies were making their curtsies when Mrs. Audley pulled him aside. She spoke in a whisper, but her tone held enough panic that Thomas could hear every word.
“Jack, I haven’t the rooms. We have nothing grand enough—”
“Please, Mrs. Audley,” Thomas said, dipping his head in a gesture of respect, “do not put yourself out on my accord. It was unforgivable for us to arrive without notice. I would not expect you to go to any great lengths. Although perhaps your finest room for my grandmother.” He tried not to sound too weary as he added, “It will be easier for everyone.”
“Of course,” Mrs. Audley said quickly. “Please, please, it’s chilly. You must all come inside. Jack, I do need to tell you—”
“Where is your church?” the dowager demanded.
Thomas nearly groaned. Could she not wait until they were even shown in?
“Our church? ” Mrs. Audley asked, looking to Jack in complete confusion. “At this hour?”
“I do not intend to worship,” the dowager snapped. “I wish to inspect the records.”
“Does Vicar Beveridge still preside?” Jack asked, clearly trying to cut the dowager off.
“Yes,” his aunt replied, “but he will surely be abed.
It’s half nine, I should think, and he is an early riser.
Perhaps in the morning. I—”
“This is a matter of dynastic importance,” the dowager interrupted. “I don’t care if it’s after midnight.
We—”
“I care,” Jack cut in. “You are not going to pull the vicar out of bed. You have waited this long. You can bloody well wait until morning.”
Thomas wanted to applaud.
“Jack!” Mrs. Audley gasped. She turned to the dowager. “I did not raise him to speak this way.”
“No, you didn’t,” Jack said, but he glared at the dowager.
“You were his mother’s sister, weren’t you?” the dowager said to Mrs. Audley.
Who looked rather startled by the sudden change of topic. “I am.”
“Were you present at her wedding?”
“I was not.”
Jack turned to her in surprise. “You weren’t?”
“No. I could not attend. I was in confinement. I never told you. It was a stillbirth.” Her face softened. “Just one of the reasons I was so happy to have you.”
“We shall make for the church in the morning,” the
dowager declared. “First thing. We shall find the papers and be done with it.”
“The papers?” Mrs. Audley echoed.
“Proof of the marriage,” the dowager practically snarled. “Are you daft?”
That was too much. Thomas reached out and pulled her back, which was probably in her best interest, as Jack looked as if he might go for her throat.
“Louise was not married in the Butlersbridge church,”
Mrs. Audley said. “She was married at Maguiresbridge.
In County Fermanagh, where we grew up.”
“How far is that?” the dowager demanded, tugging at her arm.
Thomas held firm.
“Twenty miles, your grace,” Mrs. Audley replied before turning back to her nephew. “Jack? What is this all about? Why do you need proof of your mother’s marriage?”
Jack hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat and said, “My father was her son,” with a nod toward the dowager.
“Your father,” Mrs. Audley gasped. “John Cavendish, you mean . . . ”
Thomas stepped forward, feeling strangely prepared to take charge of the rapidly deteriorating situation.
“May I intercede?”
Jack nodded in his direction. “Please do.”
“Mrs. Audley,” Thomas said, “if there is proof of your sister’s marriage, then your nephew is the true Duke of Wyndham.”
“The true Duke of—” Mrs. Audley covered her mouth in shock. “No. It’s not possible. I remember him.
Mr. Cavendish. He was—” She waved her arms in the air, as if trying to describe him with gestures. Finally, after several attempts at a more verbal explanation, she said, “He would not have kept such a thing from us.”
“He was not the heir at the time,” Thomas told her.
“Oh, my heavens. But if Jack is the duke, then you—”
“Are not,” he finished wryly. He glanced over at Amelia and Grace, who were watching the entire exchange from just inside the front door. “I am sure you can imagine our eagerness to have this settled.”
Mrs. Audley could only stare at him in shock.
Thomas knew just how she felt.
Amelia wasn’t sure what time it was. Certainly after midnight. She and Grace had been shown to their room several hours earlier, and even though she had long since washed her face and donned her nightclothes, she was still awake.
For a long time she’d lain beneath her blankets, pretending there was some kind of music to Grace’s even, sleep-lulled breathing. Then she’d moved to the window, deciding that if she couldn’t sleep, she might as well have something better to look at than the ceil-ing. The moon was nearly full, its light rendering the stars a bit less twinkly.
Amelia sighed. She had enough trouble picking out the constellations as it was.
