Chelynne
Robyn Carr
The author wishes to thank the members of the San Antonio Writers’ Guild for their support and encouragement during the writing of this book.
This novel is a work of historical fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents relating to non-historical figures are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance of such non-historical incidents, places or figures to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 1980 by Robyn Carr
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
For Brian and Jamie, with love
Dear Reader
I wrote Chelynne in 1977 and sold it in 1978. It was my first sale, but my third completed novel. My children were just babies, aged one and three, and I didn’t have a car. I trekked to the grocery store pushing my children in the stroller. We lived in a tiny apartment, and before I could put dinner on the table I had to shift the typewriter (yes, typewriter!) off of it. My husband was an Air Force pilot, stationed in San Antonio where I joined my first writers’ critique group.
I was twenty-six years old with no training in writing when I decided to write this book. I had been reading the most wonderful historical novels – Anya Seton’s Katherine, Rosemary Hawley Jarman’s The King’s Grey Mare and others. One of my absolute favorite novels was Forever Amber. When I went to the library and did a little research and found that the history that drove those fictional romances was actually true, it took my breath away! I had to be a part of that!
I chose the Restoration period for my first three historical novels because Amber St. Claire of Forever Amber charmed and intrigued me. Chelynne was published in hardcover by Little, Brown & Co. It was later picked up for paperback by a young editor at Pocket Books – it was one of her first acquisitions. Twenty years later that editor became my agent and we’ve been happily partnered ever since.
Most writers dream of being bestsellers, but that didn’t happen for me right away. Though I sold my first book in 1978, I didn’t have my first New York Times bestseller until 2008, when MIRA Books launched my Virgin River Series. MIRA has been everything I could want in a partner – smart, loyal, imaginative and dogged. And I’m grateful that success didn’t come earlier – I could not have coped with it alongside kids in diapers or teenagers challenging my sanity. Now is the right time.
Now is also the perfect time to re-issue my long out-of-print historical romances. Readers have been asking for them for years; libraries have been retiring their well-used copies. Sometimes it’s hard to look at the writing I did when I was so young and inexperienced, but sometimes it’s a bit thrilling. I had great courage, when you get down to it. Had I known then what I know now, I wonder if I’d have taken on this challenge. But I am so glad I did!
I’m so grateful to this digital age for making this return to my historicals possible. And I’m so grateful to you, for looking into the past with me.
With kind regards,
Robyn Carr
August 2011
CHAPTER ONE
A coach and eight approached Welby Manor. Two grooms held on to the back with determination and several horsemen rode as escort. On the landing in front of the grand manor house the baron waited anxiously for this passenger’s arrival. As the coach slowed to a stop, the footmen bounded from their station and rushed to have the door opened for the traveler.
At last the coach came to a complete stop and Lord Mondeloy sucked in his breath in anticipation. The door opened and a small gloved hand reached out to touch lightly upon the footman’s as the woman within prepared to disembark. With the grace of a goddess and the regal affectations of a queen, her foot found the stool and then the ground.
Sheldon Mondeloy caught his breath as he beheld the beauty of the young woman before him. He had but an instant to light his eyes on her lovely face before she dropped into a deep curtsy.
“My lord,” she greeted him with a voice soft as satin.
He broke into a broad grin and bowed. “My lady,” he acknowledged.
She straightened and held her hands clasped in front of her while he appraised her beauty with a smile. Small and fragile in appearance, she greatly resembled her mother. The squareness of her jaw and the thinness of her lips were not part of her maternal heritage, but the soft brown hair streaked with blond and the finely arched brows were her mother’s. It was as if the years had disappeared, as if Madelynne stood before him now. She was positively breathtaking.
Sheldon felt a strange catch in his throat and his vision began to blur as if he had tears in his eyes. He held open his arms to her and it was much like freeing a bird from its cage. She squealed with delight and flung herself on him, he lifting her clear of the ground in a hearty embrace and she clinging to his neck, wild with happiness. When she was on her feet again she giggled.
“Ravishing,” he muttered. “You are ravishing! For a moment I thought you’d forgotten your uncle.”
“I thought I’d never get here,” she chattered. “I thought I’d die it took so long to get here! I’ve missed you so, Uncle Sheldon. Oh, it’s so good to be home!”
He laughed at her enthusiasm. “Shall we stand out here all day or may we go inside now?”
“Carmel? Is Carmel still here?”
“In the stable,” he replied, speaking of the mare he had gifted her with some years ago. “Not as frisky but still a fine mount. Surely you’re not ready for a ride so soon after you’ve arrived.”
“As soon as I might. I’ve been bound to the busk and the needle all winter, as you should know, since you bound me to them!” Her face formed a pretty little pout and then she smiled again as she stepped inside the entrance hall. Whirling around with childish abandon and flinging her plumed hat into the air, she lost all resemblance to a carefully groomed aristocratic dame. Sheldon caught her and stilled her some small bit. She was in a delirium of happiness in coming home.
“Chelynne,” he ordered. “Calm down. Has all my effort in seeing you educated gone to naught? Must I send you away to yet another grande dame for training?”
Her expression grew intensely solemn. “My lord, I quite forgot myself. I humbly beg your indulgence in this simple maiden’s brain of mine. It seems I’ve let myself forget all good breeding and social courtesies. I yield to your pleas and will find solace in my stitchery, penance for my misbehavior, if you’ll be so kind.” She fell into another curtsy and sank so low her nose nearly touched the shining floor. A broad smile covered Sheldon’s face. Every inch of her cried woman, but there was still that child, that carefree immature little girl, and he loved her beyond his life.
He covered his smile as she rose, and held out a hand to her. She lightly rested her fingers in his and he brushed a kiss on her hand. “Very well, madam. If you will go to your rooms and freshen yourself for tea, there are some matters we must discuss.”
“Of course, my lord,” she simpered. “By your leave.” She curtsied.
He gave a nod of his head and she practically swayed to the stair, her skirts swishing in a rhythmic pattern with the small steps she took away from him. Her hands lightly lifted the heavy folds of her skirt to just the top of her tiny slippered feet and she took two very careful steps upward. Then with a shriek of giggles she raised her skirts above her knees and dashed up the stairs two at a time.
Sheldon shook his head in happy exasperation. She might as well be clad in breeches for all the womanly grace she displayed. But he wouldn’t change one inch of her. She was exquisite, elemental.
An older woman struggling through the door carrying a valise and two hatboxes caught his attention. She was grunting and frowning.
L
ord Mondeloy bowed to the woman, but she did not curtsy. Another grunt escaped her. “How’ve you fared on your journey, Stella?”
“Not without a bump or two, I’ll have ye know. I hope this marks the end of our everlastin’ meanderin’, but I know better. This tired old body can’t take such movin’ and toilin’. And that kiss o’ fire you’ve saddled me with is ‘bout to make this old heart stop.”
“Your disposition is none the worse for it,” he teased.
“I’ll get her bathed and dressed, m’lord, and send her down for a space o’ time with her kin.”
“Is there not a groom to bring those things about for you, madam?”
“Aye, the bulk of it’s in the cart and some brawny lad will drop it and strew it around a bit ‘fore it gets to me.” She grunted again, looked up the stairs to where she assumed her mistress had gone and then back to Lord Mondeloy. “She’s grown up fine, m’lord.”
“Aye, but not quite grown up, I think.”
“What she’s left to do she can’t do alone, m’lord,” the older woman advised.
He laughed, catching her meaning at once. “And is she ready?”
“More than you think to look at her, m’lord.”
He raised one brow and peered at the woman suspiciously. “Would there be something you want to tell me, Stella?”
“Not I, m’lord. I won’t be sayin’ nothin’ but that I think I know the reason we’re home again, that’s all.”
“And does Chelynne guess?”
“If she does she hasn’t let on.” That said, she stamped up the stairs, leaving Sheldon to stare at her back. Stella had tended Madelynne from her birth to her death and took over with the only offspring: Chelynne. Stella would feel as if this child were her own, having had her since the day she was born. There had never been any doubt in Sheldon’s mind when his brother and sister-in-law had both died that Stella would continue to care for Chelynne. He was the guardian and protector of the child, but Stella was the parent.
Sheldon went to his study and took a seat behind the huge desk. A maid brought a steaming pot of tea and cups a short time later and still he sat, impatient for Chelynne. He opened his desk and took out a gold ornament attached to a long, rather frayed ribbon. It was a bookmark, weighted down by the heavy gold disk that was almost as large as an egg. He kept it in the drawer of the desk when he was at home and carried it with him when he was out. He opened the disk into two halves and looked within to a tiny miniature portrait of Madelynne, the face so like Chelynne’s, and sat in quiet musing.
He looked up to the study door and the portrait came to life. She stood there looking at him, that sweet seductive smile, the fine, delicate oval face surrounded by honey-colored curls. For a moment he was oblivious to reality. If he hadn’t recovered himself he might have risen and kissed that lovely mouth. Instead he smiled. “Come in, my dear.”
Chelynne took the chair in front of Sheldon’s desk and perched on the edge. She poured for them both. “You got away from Stella quickly,” he remarked, taking his tea from her.
“I tried. She said, ‘If his lordship finds fault with ye, ye won’t be puttin’ the blame to me. It’s like trying to brush down a horse while ridin’ it.’” She finished with a giggle and covered her mouth guiltily, remembering he wished her to act like a lady now. “Where is Lady Eleanor?” she asked out of politeness.
“She’ll be down later. She’s resting. I’m pleased, Chelynne.” He smiled. “You’re looking fit. I’ve waited a long time to have this talk with you. You won’t be going away again.” She smiled happily. “But neither will you be staying here.” Her mouth drooped abruptly. “If you had to decide, right now, what you would do with the rest of your life, what would you say?”
She thought for a moment, closing her eyes in concentration. She loved little games like this, guessing games, pretending games. “I would choose to be the Queen of England,” she mused aloud.
“Will the countess of Bryant do?”
“Gracious Lord,” she murmured, aghast. “You’ve gone and done it! You’ve married me off!”
He couldn’t help his laughter. “It isn’t done yet, Chelynne. Had you given any thought to your plans? If there’s some other gentleman that’s met your fancy, I’m willing to...”
She shook her head negatively but the dumbfounded expression remained on her face. She couldn’t speak.
“Chelynne, are you concerned about my judgment?”
“Of course not,” she whispered. “It’s just that...well, I hadn’t thought so soon...”
“I’m not throwing you to the lions, my dear. A young bride is the best bride and you’re more than ready to be making a match. I could have seen it done years ago, but once you’re promised the wedding will follow soon.”
The titled name stuck in her mind and she had a picture of an aging earl, wrinkled and thin, taking her away from home. She swallowed hard and shuddered.
“His father is coming here to negotiate the dowry and have a look at you. The earl ages and you will wed the heir to that family seat. There is a great deal of wealth there. We’re most fortunate that he will even consider you.”
“Why would he even consider me?” she asked stupidly.
Sheldon smiled proudly. “Because I boasted the land I offered as your dowry to be valuable and fertile and you to be the most beautiful woman in England. Neither is even slightly exaggerated.”
“Did my father leave a dowry?”
“Your father left you only your uncle, love. I’m afraid there is nothing but that gold coin that your mother wore about her neck and this small portrait of your father.”
Some of Chelynne’s acquaintances had married even younger than this, going off to isolated manor houses in the country to bear brats for doddering old knights and barons. Even though her uncle had not described him, she could envision the groom. He would be a silly old man or imbecilic young gallant with skinny legs and a long nose. To a man like her uncle, a good match meant money and prestige. Title was all the mode.
“I imagine he is rich,” she thought aloud.
“Rich? He is richer than his own father, whose title and money he will inherit. I met him a few years ago and I gather he’s acquired much wealth since then.”
“And thin,” she guessed.
“He’s a fine figure,” Sheldon laughed. “I’ve had your best interest at heart, darling, and I don’t mind telling you it’s a great deal easier to get you wed than that fop of a son of mine. I’ll be fortunate to find a woman who will have Harry.”
Chelynne smiled at this open slander of her cousin. It was music to her ears for she had never liked him. Tolerating him was a chore she was obliged to do for Sheldon’s sake. Harry was doted upon by his mother, and Sheldon’s attentions toward Chelynne caused no small amount of chafing in this household. If she had to wed someone like Harry she would slit her throat.
She cringed unconsciously at the thought, a grimace growing on her pretty face.
“Chelynne, does the thought of marriage truly distress you?”
“I fear it does,” she said honestly. “I hadn’t thought on it and now that it’s here...it frightens me.”
He frowned. “Then perhaps you are not ready, but your years will not allow us to wait. The earl is not a patient man when he’s made his mind.”
“But he hasn’t made his mind yet, Uncle. Perhaps when he sees me he will—”
“Chelynne, when he sees you it will be all I can do to prevent him from taking you away on the spot. Now calm down, darling, there’s nothing to fear. Your mother was married at your age and she did fine.”
“Will...” The words seemed frozen in her throat but she pressed them out quickly. “Will he keep me with him from the wedding day?”
“Of course,” Sheldon answered in astonishment. Then Chelynne’s eyes went quickly to her lap and Sheldon knew what she had intended to ask. “There will be no delay in the consummation, sweetheart. I don’t think you need fear it. As I said, I met the man
and he appears to be a gentleman. It has to happen sometime, Chelynne.”
She gulped and Sheldon laughed. “There will come a day, dear child, when you will laugh at yourself for this fear. I expect you’ll be round with babe in no time and wonder what you shied at.”
Oh, God, it was too much. She hadn’t even settled herself on the act and he had her delivering a child. Her complexion lightened to a pale ivory, the pink gone from her cheeks. Sheldon noticed but disregarded her reaction.
“Your mother lived in a different age when her marriage was arranged. You’ve never been to court. I purposely had you reared away from it and the reason is this: I find most of their habits morally corrupt. It is the fault of arranging marriages in which no romance is possible. I did not interest myself solely in the title of the man or his wealth. My major concern was with his character and personal habits. I would have you wed a man you could love, hold faithful to, and cherish for all time. I see those possibilities in this match. I have selected a man you should find little fault with.”
“How soon?”
“The earl will visit us within the next two months and no doubt the wedding will follow shortly. Accept this graciously, dear. You might be nervous but I trust you to conceal it well. My mind is made.”
“Yes, sir,” she murmured, feeling a little dejected now.
“You’ll have a fine title and will be presented at court, darling. There are advantages to marriage.”
Her face brightened some small bit. Yes, there were advantages, she thought. She had spent years visiting other noble families in and out of England. Grande dames filled her head with the glamorous stories of being in the company of the king and queen. As any child would, she began to turn her head to other thoughts, a handsome husband, a position at court, gowns, jewels, money...she smiled at Sheldon.
“That’s better,” he approved. “You’ll get used to the idea.”
It was a long while later that she left her uncle’s study. They had talked of other things, theirs being a relationship closer than that of most fathers and daughters. He doted on her, but in respect to her dead parents, took the responsibility of seeing her brought into womanhood with the greatest of care. She had never doubted his devotion and, because of this gentle man’s dauntless love, she had no longing for truer parents.