Page 94 of Better Love Next Time
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
June 1759
Notfelle Estate, England
London, June 3, 1759
Dearest Kitty,
It has been eleven hours and twenty minutes since my last letter, wherein I discussed the need to journey to London from Southampton to collect my monies from The Earl. After posting your letter in a drizzling morning rain, what joy awaited me in my garret hovel upon my return but a missive from my father who has so tenderly guided my life. The devil insinuated a cowardice on my part for avoiding him for a month and detailed Oliver’s coming death from a renewed heart inflammation. I boarded a mail coach and rushed to my brother’s side.
My dying brother, upon arrival, I found at Chatham House, three bottles of brandy in between himself, Pitt, and Fox. I didreveal our secret betrothal and Oliver was ecstatic due to the brandy.
Onward to Berkeley Square, where I supped with my mother, my sister-in-law, who has not forgiven me for ruining her engagement party, and Oliver’s four screaming daughters. Only one is a newborn babe.
Wasting no time when The Earl arrived home from his club, I recovered my funds, from which I paid him directly for every penny outlaid for my allowance since I was twelve. Kitty, you should have seen his expression: pure wrath, powerless to speak or strike, lest he violate his own self-acclaimed greatness. I write to you from an inn, where I shall return tomorrow to Southampton.
Take care, my fairy. In nineteen days, we shall abscond north and be married.
Yours in Love,
Julian
Sequestered in the prayer closet off the nursery, Kitty dropped the letter she had read over and over through the night. She clutched the chamber pot and shook and heaved. Her efforts produced a pitiful ounce of scalding bile. Panting, she laid her head back on the wall and waited.
This scourge had visited her every daybreak for the past three weeks, vanishing as swiftly as it arrived. She heaved again. As the wave lessened, she concentrated on the unpadded kneeler. Despite her misery, she refused to pray for deliverance. She smiled, filled to overflowing at the miracle her and Julian’s love had created.
Her sickness gone, she removed from the closet, poured water from the pitcher into the pot, swirled it, and dumped it outthe window. She brushed her teeth and overcome with lassitude, reclined on her bed and reread Julian’s letter.
Soon she would be with her love and nothing could pierce the veil of joy surrounding her. Not Sir Jeffrey’s vociferous spending nor the carcasses he displayed daily on his return from the fields. She had admitted their planned elopement to Father Dunlevy, but he brooded over Julian’s absence.
Julian and she were to have a child. It would complicate their plans, but she would never regret however many miracles God bestowed. And ten was a nice round number. Ten sweet faces to kiss each morning. She would have her own office at their shipyard, and she would take their children along, where they could learn shipbuilding and finance and appreciate firsthand how gifted their father was.
Folding the letter and holding it to her breast, she snuggled into the bedcovers and drifted asleep. She awoke with a start at a rap on her bedroom door.
Clara hurried forward and offered her a letter. “A groom delivered it, donned in dark green-and-gold livery. Fine livery. With turned-back cuffs and gold buttons.”
Kitty read the unfamiliar script.Miss Katherine Babbington. She flipped the paper around, studying the seal. A coat of arms with two falcon heads. No expert on heraldry, she broke the wax.
Dear Miss Babbington,
It is with great pleasure that I relay to you my felicitations on your upcoming marriage to my son, Andrew. As you are likely unaware, my son and I have been, for many years, at cross-purposes. Much of it, I confess, due to my obstinate, yet well-meant, desire to see his future secured in relation to the vulnerable position his birth has placed him. Andrew hasalways displayed an admirably independent nature. But at times a recklessness which I feared he might never outgrow.
Thus, you can imagine a father’s heartfelt relief, when my eldest son, Lord Acomb, delivered the wondrous news of your betrothal. Dare I believe my youngest boy has become a man? Lo! The proof is here in you Miss Babbington, the young woman who has settled him with the noblest of responsibilities. A wife to protect and keep and perhaps, soon, a son.
My countess and I have paused in our journey north, taking rooms at the George Inn, in the sincere desire to make further your acquaintance. She has relayed to me your previous meeting and your charm and utmost suitability. If you are amenable, we shall be available until four this afternoon. Else, we will continue our travels and call upon you and your family at Notfelle directly upon our return south in no more than seven days’ time.
It is with great expectation that I await our meeting and expect to have long the pleasure of being most affectionately yours,
Tindall
Kitty lowered the letter and reflected on the script in quiet terror. “What hour is it?”
“Half past two,” Clara said.
Her father and brother had gone north to hunt and he would return any day. She had an hour and a half to prevent disaster.
“We must leave within the half hour. Help me dress and then change into your riding habit and meet me in the stables.”
