La Flamme (Historical Romance) (22 page)

She laughed and hugged him to her. "You may start now. Even though you still speak English with a French accent."

He was thoughtful. "I shall make a good earl, I believe, once I am educated."

"Yes, Richard, you shall," Sabine assured him, smiling.

Part Three:

The Duchess of Balmarough

25

Garreth looked puzzledly at the Frenchman who handed him a letter from the marquis de Chavaniac. "I am sorry," he told the man. "I am not acquainted with your lord. What can you tell me about him?"

"Your Grace," the man said bowing, "I was told to say that my lord is uncle to Your Grace's wife, Sabine Blackthorn. If it pleases you, I am instructed to wait for an answer to his letter."

Garreth disguised the tumult within him behind a face of indifference. At last, he would know what Sabine intended. "Very well," he said. His hand trembled as he broke the seal and hurriedly read the letter:

Your Grace:

This is to inform you that my niece, Sabine, and her brother, Richard, are returning to England, under my protection. I shall be speaking with King Charles on their behalf and I have my eye on their future. I am certain that you will want only what is in their best interests.

Garreth glanced up at the messenger. "You may tell the Marquis de Chavaniac that I will do what I can to help Lord Richard establish his claim to Wood bridge."

The Frenchman swept him a bow. "I shall deliver your message, Your Grace. If you wish to send a letter, I will wait."

"That will not be necessary. Just tell his lordship what I have told you. You are dismissed."

"Very well, Your Grace."

Garreth stared at the letter long after the man had departed. Here was final proof that La Flamme was Sabine. He found no joy in knowing that she was at last in England.

Sabine and Richard walked through the small but comfortable house with Thomas Yielding, the man who was acting on their uncle's orders to settle them in London. They were situated some distance from the city, and through the woods at the back of the house she could just see the roof of Hampton Court, one of the many country homes of the royal family.

"May I inquire, Mr. Yielding, why you chose a house so far from London?" Sabine asked.

He adjusted the spectacles on his large nose, and squinted through the lenses. "It was your uncle's wish that you not be subjected to the atrocities of London. If you will excuse me for speaking of indelicate matters, London is overcrowded and noisy. Open drains run down the middle of the streets, and you would find the stench offensive. My wife swears that the poor sanitary conditions are why many in London suffer from the fever. I wouldn't live there myself, and I would not put anyone I know in that pesthole either."

"Thank you, Mr. Yielding, I'm sure my uncle will be pleased with your concern on behalf of my brother and myself."

"I have engaged a housekeeper, Becky Struthers, and a cook, Mrs. Laurly, who came to me highly regarded by their former employers."

Having explained the arrangements, Mr. Yielding excused himself, and Ysabel escorted him to the door.

Sabine walked through the rooms that looked so wonderfully English. It felt good to be home. She had rarely allowed herself to think about how much she'd missed England.

Richard, who had been exploring, came bounding down the stairs. "When do we go to Wood bridge?"

Sabine laughed and gave him a hug. "When Uncle Joseph arranges it, you will go home. Try to be forbearing"—she smiled and dipped into a curtsy—"M'lord."

"I have been reading about the peerage of England, Sabine," Richard said seriously, "and you should not curtsy to me. You are a duchess and far outrank me."

She brushed her lips against his cheek. "I also outrank you by being the eldest. So, My Lord Earl, I will say to you to wash those hands so that we may dine."

He grinned and nodded. Sabine realized that for the first time, he was truly happy. When he went bounding up the stairs, Ysabel shook her head. "He is young to be faced with the responsibility of running a large estate."

"Speak English, Ysabel," Sabine reminded her gently. "This is now your home."

The dear old woman looked into Sabine's eyes, and there was tenderness and caring there. "My home is wherever you are."

"And it always will be so, Ysabel. But to answer your concerns about Richard, Uncle Joseph will find a capable man to manage the estate until Richard is of age. For now, my brother is going to school."

Events moved swifter than Sabine had expected. Her uncle had already gained an audience with King Charles. On the day he came to see Sabine and Richard, Uncle Joseph was smiling. He brushed a kiss on Sabine's cheek and took Richard's hand.

"I explained everything to his majesty, Richard, and your claim has received favorable response for several reasons. Sabine, you and Richard are to appear before the Archbishop of Canterbury, who would put questions to you both. It is to be a closed session that even I shall not be allowed to attend unless summoned."

"So it has begun," Sabine said.

"Your father's uncle, an elderly gentleman, inherited the lands and titles after you were declared dead, Richard. He will be one of those who will be questioned on your behalf and is ready to yield to you if your claim is proven."

Sabine looked uncertain. "Have you had word from my ... husband?"

"Only that he will support Richard's claim."

"Nothing about me?"

"Not as of yet. I expect he will be at the hearing."

Sabine turned away, not wanting to think about Garreth. She must consider only Richard's claim. Later, she would face Garreth, and that thought terrified her.

Sabine clutched Richard's hand as they moved slowly across the black and white marble floor. Her gaze was fixed on the man dressed in red regalia, who seemed detached from the proceedings. But on drawing nearer, she could see that his eyes were alive with interest as he looked from brother to sister, his hands poised in a prayerful position.

The archbishop's voice was sharp, as if he were delivering a sermon. "Since it has not yet been established that you are the earl of Woodbridge, and that you are her grace, the duchess of Balmarough, I shall address you by no title, but rather by name. "You, young Richard, and you, Sabine, please be seated so that we may begin."

The archbishop's chair was higher than the others, and Sabine thought this might be done to intimidate those he questioned.

She could see by the archbishop's eyes that he was both cagy and wise. He would try to expose them as impostors by his questions.

The archbishop first turned to Richard. "I assume, young lad, that you have not neglected your faith while you have been in France."

"No, Your Excellency, we attended church every Wednesday, although we did not often go to mass."

"So, then, you are Catholic?"

"Yes, Your Excellency, as were my father and mother before me."

"Tell me, Richard, what do you remember about your mother and father?"

"Your Excellency, my mother died when I was very young. I was also young when my father was slain. I have only a vague memory of him, and I remember nothing of my mother."

Sabine was proud of her brother. His answers were clear, and it was obvious that he was not intimidated by the archbishop.

The archbishop turned to Sabine. "I was present the day of your wedding. Will you not tell me something of that day?"

She went over in her mind what she could say that would impress him the most. "I remember that the king told me that he had once been crippled, as I was."

The archbishop's eyes bore into hers. "Indeed, I remember that as well. What else impressed you that day?"

"Many events. My father was unhappy because he was not certain that Garreth Blackthorn would attend the nuptials."

"Many people had that knowledge. Your father's voice carried when he was angry. Can you tell me anything further that might convince me, for you do not look like the child I saw that day."

"Garreth ... my husband's father had died, and I was sad for him."

She saw his eyes narrow, and Sabine feared he did not believe her. "Again, anyone would know about the death of his grace's father."

He signaled to the guard, who immediately opened the door. Sabine did not know the man who entered. He walked slowly, for he was a man of advanced age. When he was near Sabine, she thought he looked familiar, though she could not think why.

"This," the archbishop said, "is the earl of Woodbridge. Do either of you know him?"

Richard shook his head, but Sabine looked him over carefully. "I do not remember him well, but he is our great-uncle, Simon."

"My Lord, do you recognize these young people as your grand-niece and grand-nephew?"

The earl looked at each of them closely. "I never saw my grand-nephew, but I saw Sabine when she was quite small." He smiled slightly. "I have to say you do hold a remarkable resemblance to my nephew's wife. She was a handsome woman. Of course, your red hair you would have gotten from your father."

Sabine had thought their uncle would deny their claim so he could retain the title—yet he seemed kind, and not at all what she had expected.

"If you are my grand-niece and grand-nephew as you say, I will welcome you. I am an old man—I did not ask for the title, and I shall give it up without hesitation."

"Thank you, My Lord," the archbishop said. "I know the journey from Woodbridge has wearied you, so you may withdraw. I will speak to you after I have rendered my judgment."

The earl nodded and ambled out, but Sabine kept her eyes on the archbishop. "You have neither proved nor disproved my brother's claim, Your Excellency. Have you no one who can say who we are for certain?"

"I have one more witness. She was the old nurse. Can you say what her name is?"

Richard shook his head. He did not remember.

Sabine came to her feet, quickly suspicious of his words. Surely he was trying to trick her. "You are cruel, Your Excellency. I heard the men who raided my home say that Thea was dead. Do you think 1 would have left her if I thought she was alive?"

The archbishop nodded toward the door where a fragile woman moved forward as if each step was an effort. Her hair was completely white, and it was apparent that she was in ill health. But it was Thea all the same! Sabine held her breath as the nurse came near. She wanted to run to her and tell her how happy she was that she still lived, but there was no recognition in Thea's eyes.

Thea greeted the archbishop and then looked from Sabine to Richard, her eyes probing.

The archbishop motioned Thea to be seated. She gratefully eased her body onto the chair, her eyes now fastened on Sabine's red hair.

"Thea Mertson," the archbishop said, "I was told that you knew the Woodbridge children better than anyone. I will depend on you to tell me if these two are impostors."

Thea nodded at Sabine. "Let me see you walk."

Sabine felt her heart sink. Thea would expect her to limp. "Thea, don't you know me? How could you not?"

The old woman's face was ashen, and she paused to catch her breath. "I'll see you walk before I decide who you be."

Sabine stood and moved around the room and back, stopping before the nurse. "It's me, Thea, even though I no longer limp."

"My Sabine was crippled—you're not," Thea said accusingly.

"Oh, Thea, you must know me. If I were an imposter, could I not have contrived a limp?"

"You do resemble her grace's mother. And Sabine did have red hair, though not so dark as yours."

Sabine knelt before Thea. "Don't you remember how you were always scolding me, trying to get me to eat? And remember how you could predict when it was going to rain because you said that your bones ached? Remember the terrible night when you came to me and saved me and Richard from those men who had killed Father? We hid in the secret room in my father's chamber, and later went down the dark passage that led to the river. You took my cape and—"

Thea was nodding her head vigorously, her trembling hand going to Sabine's face. "Bless you, child," Thea said. "No one but Sabine would know about that secret passage." She withdrew her hand. Then her expression became doubtful again. "You could have guessed about the passage. Most old castles have secret rooms."

The archbishop had been listening intently. "You have doubts that these two are Sabine and Richard?"

"I have one sure way to prove it, Your Excellency, that will leave no doubt in my mind."

"Then I suggest you tell us what it is, so we might put this incident to rest, one way or another."

"Only myself and Sabine would know this—young Richard had a birthmark. What is the birthmark, and where is it located?"

Sabine closed her eyes, trying to remember. Where was it... where was it? Her eyes brightened. "It is a perfect circle, and it is located on my brother's upper leg—his right leg."

Thea's face crinkled into a smile, and tears swam in her eyes. "You'd be my Sabine right enough. No imposter could have known about the birthmark."

The archbishop held up his hand. "I will require further proof. We shall see the birthmark."

Richard came to his feet. "I will not disrobe before women—not even my sister."