Improbable Eden (32 page)

“ '
Struth, I hear you've misplaced your paramour.” The emerald eyes glittered with malice. “Or did he tire of your peasant ways?”

Eden assumed a wide-eyed stare. “Did you say
pleasant
ways?” Before Harriet could reply, Eden shook her head. “No, no, of course not, since you'd know nothing about them.” Unperturbed by the fire in Harriet's eyes, Eden took a step forward, her chin set. “It's occurred to me, Milady, that you may know where Max has gone. Would you be kind enough to enlighten the rest of us?”

Indignant, Harriet tossed her dark curls and gave Eden a contemptuous look. “You're a fool, Mistress. How should I know where that feckless foreigner went? I was only too glad to be rid of him.”

“
Only because he was poor,” countered Eden, oblivious to Sarah's disapproving expression and Keppel's unconcealed discomfiture. “Yon viscount may be rich, but at least Max has a chin.”

“
And you have cheek!” cried Harriet, jabbing at Eden with her fan. “As for Max, he may have lost more than his chin!”

Eden damped down the sudden chill of fear that Harriet's words evoked. “The best thing he ever lost was you,” she snapped, gesturing angrily at Harriet. “Please put that fan down. I've suffered enough from your antics.”

“
Oh, really?” Harriet advanced on Eden, and their hems meshed on the floor. “You spiteful little strumpet, why don't you go back to Kent—or better still, straight to hell!”

As other courtiers edged closer to the contentious pair, Keppel intervened. “Please, ladies,” he begged, taking each by the arm, “you'll upset His Majesty. It's his birthday, after all.”

Furious, Harriet shook off his hand. “Don't touch me, you viper! If it weren't for you, my uncle would be—”

But Harriet's uncle was at her side, his ruddy complexion dark, his brow furrowed with anger. “Keep your foul, perverted hands off my niece!” he almost shouted at Keppel.

Keppel, with a haughty toss of his head, merely laughed off Bentinck's vicious remark. Seeing the amused look on Keppel's face, the older Dutchman opened his mouth to speak again, but instead lunged at his enemy. Harriet screamed, Eden stumbled into the Countess, and a great gasp went up from the onlookers as Bentinck grabbed Keppel by the throat. The surprise attack caught the young favorite off guard. Keppel reeled under the ferocity of Bentinck's stranglehold until he regained sufficient balance to grasp his assailant by the arms. Though Keppel had youth on his side, Bentinck was as solid as he was fit. Moreover, he was armed with hatred; his hold was not easy to break. Under the dislodged wig, Keppel's face was beginning to turn an unhealthy color.

“
Cease! Cease, in the name of the King!” William stood four feet away, his voice hoarse and his expression livid. Behind him, little Gloucester peered out with his keen mismatched eyes, half-frightened, half-thrilled.

Slowly, Bentinck let go of Keppel and dropped his hands to his sides. William glared at both men, his lips trembling. “A disgrace,” he muttered. “Infamy! We are outraged at such uncivilized behavior!” The King started to turn toward Keppel, but began to cough. Bentinck, muttering what might have been an apology, lowered his head and stumbled from the hall with Lady Harriet trailing behind him.

“
Your Majesty,” breathed Eden, quickly remembering to bob a curtsy, “do you have your medications with you?”

William stifled his cough long enough to respond. “No,” he said curtly. “We shall return to Kensington at once.”

“
Sire …” Eden begged, but the King wasn't paying attention.

“
Joost,” he said, with a weary shake of his head, “you must have been rude to poor old Wilhem. Take us home, please. It's not been a pleasant party.”

Thwarted in her attempt to speak to either Bentinck or the King, Eden watched despondently as William leaned on Keppel's arm and the assemblage made way for the royal exit. On the dais, Princess Anne and Prince George noted the departure with phlegmatic expressions, while the Countess of Marlborough put a finger to her lips in a quizzical manner. Among the guests, only one person seemed as distressed as Eden at William's abrupt leave-taking. Alone under one of the balconies, the Duke of Gloucester stood on the verge of tears, his homely little face wearing a crestfallen expression. His thin hands plucked nervously at the diamond-studded garter which was too heavy for his frail body and seemed to weigh him down.

E
ven in the strict Huguenot atmosphere of the Berenger house, Eden could not recall a less festive Christmas season than that of 1696. Despite Lady Castlemaine's garish decorations and the endless parade of callers, nothing buoyed Eden's spirits. There was still no word of Max, and as snow clouds gathered over England, Eden's last shred of hope began to fade like the winter sun.

John Fenwick had been condemned to die on the block within the month. And on Christmas Eve Day, the Earl of Marlborough's sentence was to be handed down by King William. Eden rode to Westminster with Lady Castlemaine, praying that, in keeping with the yuletide season, His Majesty would be merciful.

The great hall was packed and held an air of excitement and dread. To Eden's surprise, she and her mother were greeted by the Countess, who pushed her way through a throng of prentices dressed in their holiday best.

“
There are occasions,” intoned Sarah at her most majestic, “when the present eclipses the past. You and I are not friends,” she said to Lady Castlemaine, “but for today, we must be allies.”

“
We can be twins for all I care, Sarah Sweet-Sheets,” Barbara agreed with an amiable lift of her sables. “Just remember, as a duchess, I outrank you.”

Under ordinary circumstances the Countess would have been angered. But on this bleak December morning, her one-time rival's tart tongue went unremarked. Lady Castlemaine's blackamoor made way for them in an upper stall, just under the great durmast oak roof.

Fumbling with her mauve taffeta skirts, Eden perched on the edge of her seat, scanning the crowded chamber. A sea of powdered wigs, hats and
fontange
caps bobbed and swayed below them, while the gossipers hummed like so many bees in a summer garden. It was not summer Eden recalled when her father was led into the dock, but the previous winter, at the Berenger garden gate. There, under a sky as threatening as the one that hung low over Westminster, she had first spoken with the Earl of Marlborough, and then Max.

On that long-ago morning the future had suddenly unfolded with all the promise of spring. Yet before the day had run its course, Marlborough had landed in the Tower. And despite Eden's best efforts, he had remained there ever since. As she watched her father stand with his usual cool detachment, she longed to leap from the gallery and race across the hall and fling herself in his arms. Instead she sat like stone, vaguely hearing Sarah's heavy sigh and Barbara's lusty curse.

The King was not on hand to deliver the sentence. Eden was somehow relieved, but as the assembly began to quiet down, she winced at the intimidating expression on the Lord Chancellor's face. Across the way, she caught sight of Sidney Godolphin, accompanied by a young man whose resemblance suggested kinship. His son, thought Eden. Godolphin's bloodlines, his own foal ….

Jarred, she sat up very straight and was about to speak to the Countess when the Lord Chancellor banged his staff on the stone floor. Eden barely heard the words that echoed off the ancient stone walls.

“
John Churchill, first Earl of Marlborough, shall be taken four weeks hence to Tower Hill where he will be executed for high treason.”

She had to reach Sidney Godolphin. Staggering to her feet, Eden nudged Lady Castlemaine, then Sarah. But both women were leaning forward, their fingers gripping the rail in front of them. Tears welled up in the Countess's eyes, and Barbara was using words Eden had never heard before.

“
Please,” begged Eden, tugging at her mother's sables, “let me pass. I must get to Lord Godolphin! I must talk to him about his horse!”

Barbara swung around, grabbing Eden by the wrist. “Stop it! You're hysterical! Sit down!”

But Eden resisted, trying to pull away. “I tell you, I must see ….”

Her words were drowned out by the furor that erupted throughout the hall. A few of the onlookers were cheering, but most were shouting their protests or stomping their feet in objection. Several hats were tossed onto the floor, along with a few less savory items. Through it all, the Earl of Marlborough stood motionless, his face impassive, his bearing noble.

With one last glance at her father, Eden opened her mouth to scream in defiance. But no sound came out, for the great hall was spinning, the heavy beams seemed to be crashing down, and the crowd had turned into a clamorous blur. Eden felt herself sinking into a sea of sable and satin, and then she felt nothing at all.

From somewhere far away, Eden heard a voice calling out, “Hot chestnuts! A ha'penny apiece!” Church bells were ringing, and the aroma of roasting fowl made her nose tingle. The first image she saw when she opened her eyes was a green vase filled with holly. Everything was as it should be, she told herself hazily, for it was the yuletide season.

Then, slowly, reality dawned. The world was awry, and her father was going to the block. To make life even more worthless, Max was gone, perhaps forever. Putting a hand to her head, Eden groaned and tried to sit up. Somehow she must accomplish the task she'd started before she went to sleep. If only she could remember what it was ….

“
Don't try to move,” said Max, putting a hand on her arm. “You hit your head when you fainted.”

The ebony eyes widened with disbelief. But Eden didn't need to pinch herself; her headache was sufficient to tell her she was conscious. “Oh!” she exclaimed, feeling the lump just above her temple. “Oh, Max! Thank God!” Her effort to embrace him fell short, and she collapsed against the pillows.

“
Just rest, you'll be all right,” he assured her, his hand on her shoulder, rubbing it gently. “You had a terrible shock.”

“
Two, in fact.” She pushed the hair off her forehead. “One terrible, and the other miraculous.” Her eyes weren't cooperating fully as she tried to scrutinize Max closely. Was the blurriness due to her headache, or was Max truly an apparition? After all the weeks of anguish, Eden had trouble accepting his reappearance. Yet she could feel his touch and hear his voice. She noted, too, that the sun-streaked hair seemed a little darker, the flesh over those high cheekbones a trifle tauter, and the shadows under his eyes more pronounced. “Max,” she demanded in a high, thin voice, “where have you been?”

“
To France to visit the King,” he replied lightly, but the hazel eyes still showed his concern for Eden. “We'll speak of that later. Now you must stay quiet.”

“
But I can't,” Eden protested, making another feeble attempt to sit up. “Jack is going to die! And I know how to save him!”

Max stroked her face and kissed her nose. “I'm sure you do. You'll save everyone. Now go to sleep.”

“
Will you stay with me?” Her voice ached with the fear of losing him again.

He lifted her hand and entwined her fingers in his. “I'll nail my boots to the floor.
Vrouw
de Koch can bring food at four-hour intervals. I'll prop my eyes open with hairpins.” His grin, off center and engaging as ever, spread across his chiseled face as he gently squeezed Eden's fingers.

“
You could sleep next to me,” Eden suggested in a small voice. Her free hand waved limply at the empty side of the bed.

Max inclined his head to one side. “I could do that,” he allowed. His gaze traveled slowly from her peaked face to the curve of her breast under the covers to the outline of her slim legs. “God knows, I've thought enough about it.” He took a deep breath as he let go of her fingers. “A lot. But I don't want to disturb you while you're recovering. I'll keep watch right here, I promise.”

Reluctantly, Eden shut her eyes. But a moment later she was staring quizzically at Max again. “I still think I've gone mad. I hear singing.”

Cocking his head, Max listened. Out in the street a half dozen voices were raised in a chorus of ancient carols. Max smiled at her, his face touched with tenderness. “You do, indeed. And why not, Eden? It's Christmas.”

For the next two days Eden slept much of the time. In bits and pieces, she discovered Max had been at Westminster, trying to conceal his height behind several onlookers who'd managed to climb on a riser for a better view. He had spotted Eden without difficulty, along with the Countess and Lady Castlemaine. After the grisly sentence was handed down, Max had planned to slip away. But he had noted Eden's obvious agitation and her subsequent swoon. Scorning detection, he had climbed into the gallery and rushed to her side. When he found out that she had not only fainted but had struck her head on the rail, he'd insisted on bringing her to Clarges Street.

“
Your mother put up no argument, being in a bit of a daze herself,” recounted Max as he and Eden sat in her chamber drinking hot coffee and nibbling
Vrouw
de Koch's spicy Christmas
speculaas
biscuits. “As for the Countess, only her great strength of character kept her from attacking the Chief Justice. She went directly to Kensington, but William would not yield.” Max made a bitter face that had nothing to do with
Vrouw
de Koch's strong coffee.