The Sanctuary (A Spencer Novel) (16 page)

Chapter 29

The traveling coach arrived with two armed men on back, and one up beside the coachman. Both Anthony and Philippe elected to ride post, while Clairece reclined on mountains of cushions inside. With every bump and hole, she covered her mouth to keep from crying aloud.

The conveyance slowed and left the main road, turning onto a well-maintained gravel lane. As the carriage eased down a slope, a towering edifice came into view. Surrounded by rolling fields, the great house seemed to rise from the earth like the soaring oaks surrounding it.

Elegant lawns sloped toward a man-made lake and a miniature Grecian palace, and on toward the sparkling water of the estuary.

The narrow tract circled back and Clairece leaned forward to view the rear of the mansion with its parterre and formal gardens. A wide terrace, dotted with large urns and pots, offered a panoramic view of the private grounds. Graveled walking paths, with dainty wooden bridges, crossed small streams, knitting together freshly turned beds where annuals would be planted. In the dying light of the sun, the majestic residence appeared soft rose in color. Gleaming white pillars framed a welcoming portico and the wide expanse of steps leading to the heavy front doors. A long stable row lay off to the side, its smaller portico mirroring the grand house.

Tall, mullioned windows lined the first and second floors, with narrower casements evenly spaced across the third. As they drew nearer, Clairece noted a dotting of glass panes tucked up under the tiled roof. A service entrance sat beneath the front steps, undoubtedly leading to the understory rooms.

She smiled with pleasure at the eclectic combination of Elizabethan and Jacobean comprising the mansion. Sunlight glinted off the shining glass of an orangery tucked snugly against the east side of the house.

The coach rocked to a stop beneath the portico where Hodges and an under butler stood waiting. A footman opened the carriage door and lowered the steps, and Anthony was there extending his hand.

“Welcome, wife, to Sanctuary Park and Harding Hall.”

Clairece placed her hand in his strong, firm palm, and stepped down. The weakness in her knees owed nothing to her recent accident. At once overwhelmed and uncertain, she wanted nothing more than to return to the safety of the coach.

“I cannot do this,” she whispered, gripping his hand.

Anthony squeezed her fingers. “Of course you can. There is nothing to be frightened of.”

Light streamed from the house through the doors, while lamps situated on either side of the entrance illuminated the porch. Clairece slipped her arm through Anthony’s and faced the line of liveried and uniformed servants who waited to greet them. She straightened her shoulders and lifted a hand to conceal the bruising on her face.

Anthony gently drew her fingers away. “Clairece, by now the account of your attack has spread throughout the Hall. You will find only concern for your wellbeing here.”

Hodges stepped forward and bowed politely.

“Hodges, may I present my wife, Lady Clairece Wade, Countess Harding.”

Hodges bowed again, breaking decorum to smile. “My lady, it is indeed a great pleasure.”

Unexpected warmth spread through her. “Thank you, Hodges.”

The moment Philippe joined them, the butler’s eyes widened and his entire being stiffened. Clairece glanced at Philippe in time to catch a barely perceptible nod before Anthony spoke, ending the brief exchange.

“Hodges, this is
Don
Philippe Montenegro, a member of Lady Harding’s family. He will be a guest for a while. Would you please ask Mrs. Stedman to prepare a corner room in the guest wing?
Don
Philippe is free to come and go as he pleases, but I wish to be informed immediately should anyone else do so.”

“Yes, my lord.” Hodges’ gaze remained fixed on Anthony. At the first opportunity, Clairece would ask Philippe about the quick exchange between the two.

Anthony viewed the line of servants with a slight frown. “Hodges, although I would like the servants to greet their new mistress, I’m afraid Lady Clairece needs to rest.”

Clairece lowered her voice. “This is important, Anthony. Let’s not disappoint them.”

“Are you certain?”

A smile curved her lips. “Of course.”

They made their way along the row of staff while Anthony introduced each person by name, down to the last scullery maid and stable boy.

At the rear of the long line was Mrs. Stedman, a tall, slender woman in her mid-forties. Clear brown eyes stared unwaveringly at Clairece. The woman would have been considered lovely had it not been for the scar on her cheek and a nose sitting slightly askew.

The head housekeeper curtsied, a ring of keys jangling at her waist. “My lady, welcome to Harding Hall.” Clairece caught the cultured tones of a gently bred woman.

“Thank you, Mrs. Stedman. I’m happy to be here.”

Anthony escorted Clairece up the remaining steps and into the front foyer. Although home to previous generations of Lords Harding, the walls had the look of new plaster and paint, and the marble floor underfoot had obviously been recently installed.

Clairece viewed the towering two-story entry with awe. Topped by an arched ceiling covered in a mosaic of flowering fruit trees and dancing maidens, the main hall was nothing short of a masterpiece. Electrified sconces lined the space casting light into areas which would otherwise have been in shadow.

Although a breach of etiquette, Clairece stood in one spot and rotated to view her surroundings. Pale cream walls blended with the slightest hint of ochre in the cornice, frieze, and picture rail, and again in the marble flooring.

“This is breathtaking,” Clairece murmured in wonder.

Anthony smiled with pleasure. “You like it?”

“It’s glorious.”

“Tomorrow I shall show you around, but for now, you must rest.”

Clairece continued to gawk. “You have electric lights?”

“I had electrification installed in part of The Hall during the renovation. Other areas still have gas lighting. The lights are powered by a generator not unlike those at my factories.”

“Exceedingly progressive,” she teased.

“Since I invested heavily in electric power, I could hardly do otherwise,” Anthony quipped.

Clairece surveyed the wide, carpet-covered stairs leading to the second floor, and the gallery of portraits visible from below. Anthony’s warm breath stirred the hair at her temple before she was scooped up and held securely against his chest.

Clairece glanced at the row of smiling servants. “I can manage on my own.”

“Allow me the pleasure of carrying my countess to our suite,” he whispered.

At the second story landing, Anthony turned right and strode down a hall to a set of double doors. He shoved with his shoulder, and carried her to the center of the room where he lowered her feet to the floor.

“Oh, my,” she breathed. White paneling covered the walls from the skirting board near the floor to the chair rail. A patterned silk depicting a profusion of flowers and soaring butterflies covered the space from rail to ceiling. The colors were delicate, not much more than a hint of yellows, peaches, and lavender. Hepplewhite furniture, polished to a deep glow, filled the room. On the dresser lay her brushes, combs, and favorite perfume, as well as a bouquet of hothouse roses.

“I have never seen anything more lovely.” She snuggled against him.

“I have.” His gaze met hers.

Daisy bustled in from the adjoining dressing room, a large space set aside for gowns and accessories. The maid placed a soft cotton nightdress across the foot of the bed and smiled at Clairece. “A bath has been prepared, my lady. Ring for me when you’re ready.” With a curtsy, Daisy scurried from the room.

Clairece glanced around. “This is a beautiful room, but I thought—hoped—we would share your bed.”

Chapter 30

Anthony drew Clairece against him. “I think it best if we sleep separately until you’re well healed. I would not wish to injure you further.”

“But—”

He silenced her with a kiss. “There are things I must attend to. I’ll have Cook send up a tray. For now, try to eat and get some rest.” He strode from the room and from the stricken look on Clairece’s face. He felt like an arse leaving her, but he would not risk her wellbeing if his desire for her overrode his self-restraint.

Anthony met Hodges in the front hall. “Where is
Don
Philippe?”

“Checking the locks on the windows and doors, my lord.”

“Excellent. Have the guards been posted?”

“Yes, my lord, just as instructed. At
Don
Philippe’s suggestion, I have placed a man at the bridge and at the gatehouse. If someone approaches by road, we shall know well in advance.”

“Good,” Anthony stated.

“May I enquire as to your wishes regarding dinner? We were uncertain as to your preferences for your lordship and the Countess.”

“Who is dining in tonight?”

“The three aunts, Mrs. Dobbins, as you requested, and
Don
Philippe, my lord.”

Anthony sighed, his mind occupied with Clairece. “I will dine with the others.”

“And the countess?”

Anthony considered his response. “Send a tray to her room and include a red rose.”
A poor substitute for a wedding night.

As he entered the small parlor to visit his aptly-dubbed ‘precious jewels,
’
three coiffed gray heads turned in Anthony’s direction.

“Anthony, dear, we are so happy to see you.” Pearl lifted her face and he dutifully bussed her powdered cheek. “We’ve asked Cook to make all your favorite dishes, including lemon tarts.”

Opal added, “Yes, dear boy, and we especially want to thank you for the silk thread and yarn, so many beautiful colors.” Her knitting needles continued to click even as she beamed at him. Anthony dropped a kiss on the top of her curls.

“You’re all welcome.” He glanced at the pile of knitted wool lying on the floor by Opal’s chair, and stooped to lift the edge. “I thought this was to be a scarf. You would tell me if we have an incredibly large fellow living on the premises, would you not?”

“Don’t be silly, dear. I just got to talking and the next thing I knew . . .” Opal shrugged delicate shoulders. “It’s to be a lap robe instead.”

Anthony eyed the heap again as he straightened. “A huge lap, to be sure.”

“What do you think, Anthony dear?” Aunt Ruby questioned, holding up an embroidery hoop to display her needlework. “The thread came just in time for me to finish the flowers.”

Anthony obligingly studied the intricate pattern, noticing one of the colors seemed a little off. “It’s beautiful, Aunt Ruby.” He smiled down at the endearingly-sweet face with its pair of pince-nez settled on the little nose. She’d worn the same glasses for as long as he could remember. Since he would never convince her to leave Sanctuary and travel to London to see a doctor, he would send for a physician to come to the Hall.

His gaze traveled over each of his ladies. “Did the new frocks not arrive?”

“They did, dear, and such stunning ones, too.” Opal’s needles continued to flick back and forth as she offered assurance.

“Why are none of you wearing them? Were they not to your liking?”

“We decided to save them for a special occasion,” Pearl said. “Besides, the last ones you purchased for us are still quite nice.”

“Is there nothing at all you require? Ribbons, baubles, fripperies, anything?” Anthony asked.

Ruby peered at him above her pince-nez. “With the nice pin money you give us, we’re able to purchase any little thing we desire in the village.”

Anthony turned toward the fire in the hearth and noticed Mrs. Dobbins, sitting quietly in the corner, darning. “Please accept my apologies, ma’am. I didn’t see you there.”

“None necessary. Your aunts and I are having a nice visit.”

Taking a fortifying breath, he addressed all of the ladies. “I have some news. If you have not yet heard, I am newly married. My countess is upstairs resting and you shall all meet her tomorrow.” Anthony winked at Mrs. Dobbins, whose smile split her rounded face. He raised his hand to still the bevy of female voices.

“We also have a guest, a relative of my wife’s.
Don
Philippe Montenegro is here from Spain and will be visiting for the time being.” The gong sounded. “Dinner is in one hour, and—”

The women scrambled to their feet. “Ladies, I do believe this is a special occasion, don’t you?” Pearl laid her tatting shuttle aside. “We shall wear our new gowns.”

“Mrs. Dobbins, would you honor us with your company for dinner?” Anthony queried.

“Well . . . I . . .” the nurse stammered.

“Come along, Philomena dear, we’ve no time to waste.” Ruby slid her arm through Mrs. Dobbins’ and hauled her toward the door. “We must dress for dinner, you know.”

The door closed behind the chattering women. Anthony rocked back on his heels and smiled.

Throughout dinner, Anthony offered a condensed version of the events leading up to their arrival at Sanctuary. He chose his words with care for fear he’d distress his aunts’ delicate sensibilities. He needn’t have worried.

Mrs. Dobbins, not to be outshone by the three spritely ladies, expounded on the villain’s brazenness, adding hand gestures for effect. An occasional wave of a fan, or the touch of a dainty handkerchief to a frail brow, was the only indication his aunts were in any way affected. That, and the three pairs of curious eyes turned in his direction.

“Well, I’ve no doubt our dear Anthony will see them punished for their ill-advised behavior. A toe strategically placed, if you take my meaning, would be an appropriate way to start,” Ruby offered, her eyes shining.

Anthony choked. As he reached for his glass of water, he heard a sound, a combination of cough and bark of laughter, emanating from the end of the table. He glanced at Philippe who covered his mouth with a napkin.

What Anthony found most interesting, was the reaction of the four females to
Don
Philippe. The man did not flirt, nor was he in the least inappropriate in the attention he paid them. Yet, it was obvious Philippe held them enthralled.

As the Spaniard’s regard moved from one lady to the next, they responded with blushes and preening gestures. Astonished to see Aunt Pearl titter behind her gloved fingers, Anthony worked to hide his amusement.

He found the ladies’ reaction to Philippe’s smile even more illuminating. Opal waved her fan with such vigor it stirred the curls in Ruby’s carefully coiffed hair, while Mrs. Dobbins made an inarticulate garble and patted her ample bosom with her hankie. Aunt Pearl simply gaped. It was Ruby who drew a surprised chuckle from their guest when she batted her lashes at him over the top of her fan.

While the women flirted outrageously, Anthony’s thoughts turned to Clairece. He’d been tempted to stay with her, but with the least provocation he might have pounced. It unnerved him, the power this woman wielded over his restraint. At times he felt like a fledgling, ready to leap upon her at every opportunity and devil take the consequences.

Pearl stood, a signal for the ladies to retire to the rose salon, drawing Anthony’s attention back to his guests. He and Philippe came to their feet while footmen moved forward to help the women with their chairs.

Philippe bowed. “
Buenos noches
, ladies.”

Anthony’s ‘precious jewels’ offered their goodnights in unison, rendering them undecipherable. Linking arms, they breezed from the room, whispering among themselves.

“
Don
Philippe, would you join me in a port?”

“It would be my pleasure.”

A carafe was placed within reach and he signaled for the footmen to leave.

“They are sweet women, Lord Anthony,” Philippe said, moving to the chair on Anthony’s right.

“They are.” He filled two Bordeaux-shaped bowls halfway and handed one to Philippe.

The Spaniard swirled the dark-red liquid in his wineglass, obviously preoccupied, then set his still-full glass down, and rose. “If you do not mind, I should like to retire.”

Surprised, Anthony came to his feet. “Would you care to ride with me in the morning? I can show you the estate, its borders, and introduce you to the people in the village.”

“
Si
, I would like that.”