“No need,” he said, frowning. He had only half heard what Winfield had said. Winfield had referred to him as Your Grace, the title that had belonged to his father and should have been his brother’s.
“Being called Your Grace will take some time to adjust, I fear. I left a young man and returned a weathered soldier with the scars to prove the journey. I fear I look worse than my father’s hunting dogs after an afternoon romping in the woods and lakes, and no doubt have twice the lice. What I need is a hot bath. I would first like to see my mother, if she is available.”
Winfield nodded with a slight bow. “Your mother is with guests. Quite a few, actually. She could not wait for the marriage season’s round of balls this spring, and when the proper mourning period of no entertaining ended, she took it upon herself to get a jump on it. I believe those were her exact words. She has invited wealthy heirs and heiresses from the former colonies to stay with us until after the New Year. I will send word that you have arrived. She will want to see you straight away. Might I suggest the Gold Room?”
Robert heard the hesitation in Winfield’s voice and the emphasis he placed on the words “wealthy heirs and heiresses.” The solicitor was correct. Robert had not concerned himself with the running of the castle and its lands. That task had been his father’s and brother’s. He assumed in his absence his mother would have hired someone to take over until he returned.
He lifted his gaze toward the castle. The double doors were held open, allowing a constant parade of guests. Twin mourning wreaths hung over the open double doors, and Robert felt a tug in his heart. Their presence, and the black armbands, reaffirmed that all was not well. The flags were faded and torn, and not all of the torches were lit. When his father was alive, neither flaw would have been tolerated. It was as though a shroud had been draped over the castle.
He cleared his throat, forcing his attention to the present. “Winfield, would you have a groomsman see to my horse? Trinity has had a long journey and, like me, longs for good food, a dry bed, and the prospect of a quiet night’s rest.”
“Most assuredly, sir,” he said handing the horse’s reins to a footman who had appeared beside him as though out of thin air. “We will make sure Trinity is well cared for.”
“Robert!” His mother stood by the double doors and cried out his name again. “We heard you were dead.”
“Not yet, though many seem to try.”
His mother wore a black crepe mourning dress. Except for a few more gray hairs laced in with her chestnut brown, her eyes were bright and her smile warm and welcoming. He was pleased that some things had remained the same.
She rushed to gather him in an embrace, then seemed shocked by her sudden display of affection and drew back. “Winfield, my son and I will be in the Gold Room. Please bring refreshments.”
Robert followed her inside, a little shocked at her public display of affection. He knew his mother loved him. She loved all her children. But she had rarely shown any signs of affection in public. She, like his father, had kept her emotions under tight control.
There were exceptions, of course. There was the time he had fallen from a tree and broken his arm. She had not left his side until the physician had declared him safe enough to be moved downstairs for a turn in the garden. Then there were the times his sisters had come down with influenza, or his younger brother, William, with the case of a bellyache, which proved to be caused by overeating.
His older brother Donald on the other hand, seemed to have lived a charmed life, which had made the incident with the wild boar all that much harder to swallow. Other than that, his father had instructed that the care of his children should be left in the hands of tutors and governesses.
The entry room of the castle, with its tall ceilings and walls covered with portraits of pinch-faced ancestors, was a blaze of light. Boughs of cedar, pine, and holly wove around doorways and the banisters leading to the second-floor wings. Music and laughter drifted from the direction of the grand ballroom, and guests, dressed in their finest, milled about the room, casting wary glances his way.
He could almost read their minds. They wondered why a man dressed as he was, and looking and smelling more like a vagrant, footpad, or cutthroat than the lord of the manor, had been allowed entrance. He could, of course, have set them straight on all accounts. For now, he kept silent on the matter. He had lived in the spotlight all his life, his every gesture, word, and deed judged. It occurred to him that he relished anonymity.
Once inside the Gold Room, a room that overlooked her rose garden, his mother folded her hands in front of her. “You walk with a limp.”
“It is nothing. You are looking well, Mother.”
“Of course, I am.” She waved away the compliment. “How can you say it is nothing? You limp.”
“A bullet wound from battle. A souvenir from the war against Napoleon’s armies.”
“Do not joke. I will not have it. Will it heal?”
“In time, or so said the head leach at hospital.”
She lifted her chin. “Well, you look terrible. And that beard… Most unbecoming.”
He gave her a mischievous grin as he scratched his beard. “I do believe I am infested with fleas and nits. Mayhap I should sleep with my horse.”
She cuffed him on the shoulder as the corners of her mouth edged up in a smile. “Do not tempt me. You will stay in the house like a proper gentleman. You should be ashamed, jesting with your dear old mama.” Her lips trembled. “I have missed you. Your father and brother were so proud of you. They would have…”
“I am sorry… I should have been here.”
She placed her hand on his shoulder and gave him a slight squeeze. “You were fighting for your country. Your father and I both agreed there was no better cause. Off with you. You need a bath and a meal. Tomorrow will be time enough to meet with your young brother and sisters and offer me no end to worry. I have planned a Christmas Eve Ball, and now it will be a celebration for your return as well. I have missed you.”
Robert leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek. “It is good to be home, and you already said you missed me.”
“Well, it bears mentioning again. Before you leave, however, I would like a full accounting of your experience fighting Napoléon before he was captured. Is it true he is exiled and considers himself the Emperor of Elba?”
“All true. Mother, I am impressed. I was unaware you were interested in such things.”
