Thirty Eight

The Duke of Marlborough smiled fondly, gazing at the raven, silky tresses flowing backwards from his wife's head. She sat across from him in their carriage, her head and shoulders residing far out the window.

Kathleen looked out behind them to see if she could recognize the lay of the land. She reached back to gather her hair up in one hand to keep it from whipping about her face, as her other hand clutched tightly to the sill.

William soaked up her presence, replete with overwhelming contentment and joy. For William to be able to look upon his wife with his own eyes, to have her truly in front of him; not a wish, not a haunting, nor a dream; it was as if every prayer he had ever uttered had been answered. William knew he had been given a precious gift when his duchess had been returned to him. A gift that he would always be most eternally grateful for. One that he would never, ever take for granted.

Kathleen's emerald eyes still sparkled with youth, her skin bore a smooth, healthy glow that belied her years. Her form was still trim, and to William, alluringly shapely. She was still his beautiful, precious Kat, even after all the time they had been kept apart.

William smiled wide, reaching out his hand to place it firmly around her hip, as Kathleen teetered in the coach's window. "Careful, my love," William admonished, "I would not have you lost to me again."

Kathleen turned her head to look over her shoulder, smiling brightly at him, "I am only excited, William. Hold onto me if you are truly worried I shall topple out."

William took her by the arm, pulling her gently out of the window to sit upon his lap, "I shall hold onto you, all right." He wrapped his arms around her middle, as she laughed in his face at his fear. Throwing her arms around William's neck, Kathleen kissed him upon his smiling cheek, then drew back to look lovingly into his eyes. The Duke waited upon her words, anticipating a declaration of her love for him, his eyes warming as he spread his hands to encompass her waist.

"How much longer, William?" Kathleen began frowning at the delay the long carriage ride was costing them.

The Duke chuckled at his feisty duchess. No, 'twas not a declaration of love, but a declaration of her impatience. William however, knew his wife well enough, to know that she did not endure inactivity well. "Another hour at most, Minx. Now sit still and let me hold you." William continued chuckling, knowing she would only last a minute at best. True to his thoughts, she relaxed against him for less than a moment, before he heard her heave a giant sigh, then she reached out towards the window once more. William's only thought, as he held onto her thigh firmly, was that he had better have the driver check to make sure the door locking mechanism was sound, and to be sure to have it's soundness assured often.

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The King turned to Damien, "Is that not just the damnedest thing?" He shook his royal head at the structure before him.

"I have not ever seen the like before." Damien also, sat in awe of the large vessel in the yard.

The structure gave the appearance of being run aground. The stern sat upon pilings, hovering far out over the lake. It was quite a view when one came riding up the lane from the town of Shelly. Painted with golden trim that shone in the sunlight, it was a bold proclamation that this estate was different then any other.

A plank had been fashioned off the end of the stern for jumping and diving. The crew had tested the plank more than a few times, relieving the heat of their labors. They had used the excuse they must be sure the children would not hit the bottom of the lakebed upon their descent. A slide had been installed off to one side of the stern, it would deposit children straight into the shallows, where even the smallest tots would find their footing quickly and easily, upon landing at the bottom.

The bow of the ship pointed out past the manor, facing the road that came winding it's way in from London. The framework center was without a hull, the sides were open, supporting swings, rope climbing nets, and swaying, net lined bridges. The bridges ran across the length, bow to stern. There was even a 'brig' and a galley fashioned into the hold for the children's imaginative play.

Railings and slides graced both the inside stern and bow. The slides were positioned on opposite sides, pouring children, one after another into the center of the ship.

The Duke of Rawlings sat comfortably, sipping at his iced, lemon tea, as he watched the children play. He found himself listening to the youngsters as they joyfully called out to one another.

Violet brought his ankle up to cross upon his knee, leaning back in his chair, he sat next to Brutus. "A fine job Michaels did there."

"Amen." Brutus nodded. Brutus's eyes, and his thoughts, were upon the small maid, Margaret. She stood on the grass, holding her babe, standing off to the side of where the children played.

"Have ye made any progress there?" Violet drawled nonchalantly.

" 'Tis hard to say." Brutus replied thoughtfully.

"I would not think so," Violet ruminated, "you are either getting somewhere, or you are not."

Brutus laughed lowly, "You are an ass, Violet." He shook his head, "Just because Elizabeth jumped at the chance to wed your sorry bum, does not mean other women do not have issues. Issues that have nothing to do with the fact that 'tis me doing the courting."

Violet chuckled, he was exhausted, and he had to admit to feeling slightly ornery. All of their hard work had paid off, however. The children now had beds to sleep in, a playground to play in, a place for their studies, and other than a sniffle or two, they all seemed perfectly healthy. They had been eating well, even starting to look as though they had gained a bit of weight on their small frames. Violet looked up to the 'helm' of the ship. Robby had been 'Captain' for hours now, the boys never seeming to tire of their play.

The men had built booths and vending carts, they had hunted for game and prepared meat. All was as ready for the festivities as it could be. It had been extremely laborious, yet, Violet found such joy in seeing his dream come to life. Violet's gaze returned to the maid, Margaret. She stood next to the ship, swaying back and forth with the babe as she spoke with Rebecca. Both ladies were watching Pete as he pushed Jonah and two young girls on the swings.

Violet could hear the small children calling out, "Higher, Pete, higher!" His eyes remaining on the maid, Violet thought aloud, "Though..." Violet continued his harassment of Brutus, "it does look as if Pete is having a spot more luck than ye be." Violet said lazily.

Brutus looked fully sideways at Violet, "You shall miss me when I am gone, Violet...... Who will you have to badger then?" Brutus sat back again, half heartedly swinging his fist around to catch Violet upon the chest.

"Oooomph!" Violet responded appropriately, then he grinned widely, "Now, hold up, Captain," Violet laughed in a slightly winded voice, "Ye be the one saying ye are havin' no luck w' the lass."

"Ass...." Brutus sat there a moment in silence, while Violet chuckled.

"Violet, 'tis really too bad your father was not around to curb your wicked tongue when you were younger, as we all know your mother lacked the spine to do so."

"My mother did too have a...." Violet began defensively, then he resumed chuckling, "Ahh... I see what ye did there."

Brutus hefted himself from the rocker, giving Violet a scathing look before nodding to the other gentlemen sitting in a row upon the porch. Brutus turned to make his way out into the yard.

"Did ye not want a spot of advice before leaving?" Violet asked helpfully.

"Shut up, Violet." Brutus could be heard to say as he strode away.

Violet grinned while Brutus made a bee line to the maid. Vi wondered who would win the clash of wills. Brutus..... Or the shy maid?

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Due to the expectancy of a high volume of traffic upon the road come morn, all who could do so were staying at the manse this eve. Rebecca and Margaret were sharing the nursery and the governesses room. Jonah, and the babe, Daniel, were staying there with them. Timothy had asked if he could be allowed to bunk with the boys. The Wench's crew had been sleeping out with the estate hands, in comfortable bunks next to the stables, leaving the manor rooms free for the visiting nobility. Damien and Amelia now occupied a room, the Duke retained his, and the King, he now had his own room also.

Amelia and Elizabeth were presently going about the manse, checking that all was ready for the morrow, and seeing to the rooms they still had available.

Cook had been busy in the kitchens. Her entire staff had been working extremely hard for many days, preparing anything and everything they could think of, that could be made ahead of time.

Michaels had made six carts for the distribution of foodstuffs, the menu had been chosen for it's ease and economy.

Collaborating with the cooking staff, Betsy thought they had come up with a fine idea that should suit everyone's taste. The first booth would supply the revelers with round loaves of bread that had been hollowed out. Due to that, the manse had been filled with a yeasty, hunger inducing aroma all the day long. Another booth had been designated to serve a beef stew. Another would have seafood chowder. Margaret had shared a rice dish that was adaptable to any kind of meat, sounding delicious enough to try, Margaret assured it had been a favorite upon the island she hailed from.

The guests could then fill their bread bowls with whatever their preference may be. Elizabeth saw an advantage for the staff in the small loaves being the serving ware and, at the same time, they would be providing a very filling meal for their guests. Beverages would be served, lemon tea and coffee, along with punch and ale.

The staff had been strictly informed, any person showing signs of overindulging in the spirit was to be denied more ale and were to be immediately reported to either Pete, or Sam, who would then deal with the situation appropriately. Violet did not take well to drunkards. A man must know his limitations, or he should abstain. Violet would tolerate no foolishness in his family's surroundings, and that, was how Violet felt about that.

The maid Nora would mind the nursery over the next two days, she and another maid had asked to please be allowed to watch over the napping babes. Nora had been found to have the temperament of a saint, and she simply adored the small, sweet smelling, wee ones.

A small petting area for the toddlers had been set up at the back of the stables. Hope was penned there, her velvety nose just waiting to be stroked by curious children. A few lambs frolicked in an adjoining pen, also awaiting the small children's visits.

The puppies had now been tumbling out of their stall, seeing what was around them they became curious, and they had to be boarded up in the last stall, safe from horses unwary hooves. The pups had been corralled where children could reach over a short board, to pet the puppies soft fur, and to be kissed upon their hands.

A list of competitions and races awaited competitors, a few 'treasures' had been hidden, and their location maps had been made. The treasure hunts were arranged for different age groups, from tots to grown adults. They all had tried, over the last few days, to come together with ideas that would entertain and please everyone.

Violet had rode to town yesterday morn to look quickly for more children. He had stopped before returning, paying a visit to Miss Merry Whitaker.

Violet asked if she would come and create sketches of the nobles and their children, mayhap, in amusing scenes. Merry had been delighted with the idea and had even come up with an idea or two of her own. She was now ensconced in the staff's quarters, electing to stay in a room with Sadie, once they had become acquainted. Already, Merry had painted a life sized donkey upon canvas, that was now pinned to the skirt of the veranda.

Sitting on the veranda, quite satisfied with where they stood in the preparations, Violet took a swallow of his brandy then accepted a cheroot from Damien.

Gabriel, the King, Damien, and Violet, sat as Patriarch's upon the porch, all of them resting up for the days ahead.

Gabriel looked across the King, to Damien, "I have heard your son, Drake, has returned safe and sound."

"Aye, he has." Damien spoke with pride, "Also wed, and our first grandchild is to be expected in a timely manner."

"Ah, grandchildren.... our reward for living as long as we do." Gabriel smiled wistfully, very happy to have found Elizabeth, as she was the last of his living relatives. Penelope had been the Duke's only daughter, and he had lost her much too soon. It had been natural for him to want to give his grandson, Alexander, every advantage he could.He knew he would have done the same with Elizabeth, given the opportunity. "Any chance of getting this boy a title?" Gabriel looked to the King shrewdly, as Damien sniggered on the King's other side, and Violet, upon the end, rolled his eyes.

"Who? The pirate?" The King acted surprised and mortified by the idea.

"Yes, the damned pirate, who else would I be referring to?" Gabriel spoke testily to his monarch. Being old did have it's advantages once in a while.

"I am sitting right here, ye fathom." Violet grumbled from his seat. "I do not want, nor need, a title, your grace. Please desist in...."

"Well," Gabriel spoke over Violet, to the King once more. "Can nothing be done?"

" 'Tis already done, old man, cool your breeches." The King watched Violet covertly with a sidelong glance.

"What has been done?" Violet queried warily.

"Your title, did your father not tell you?" The King knew Marcus had not, as Marcus did not yet, know himself.

Gabriel sat back satisfied. Things were looking up already. He did not know, nor care how it came about, as long as his granddaughter was raised in society to her rightful place.

Unbeknownst to Marcus, before leaving, Alfred had come before the King and signed away his rights as heir to Shelly. Alfred would still hold his title of Baron to Nimford however, knowing Violet was the elder son, Alfred had given Violet what should have been his by birthright.

The King knew more than he let on. He had studied Alfred intensely while the young man signed the papers, and the King had put the puzzle together. The King had deduced that Alfred was, by looks and demeanor, Jude's son. He had seen the resemblance before but, he had assumed it simply derived from Gwendolyn's side of the family. Yet, all of a sudden, it had made sense. The King, however, would not hurt his friend Marcus by being the bearer of that news. And, if Marcus should never know the truth, it would not be any great travesty. Not now that Violet would inherit the title and lands.

Alfred's title of Nimford had come to him from his Mother's father, the Earl, and was his true inheritance. Also, were Jude never to bear a legitimate heir, Alfred would inherit his 'cousin's' title also, as the family's heir apparent.

The King thought it humorous how life worked out sometimes. He thought of Elizabeth and how she attributed such to the workings of God. The King supposed, things working out the way they had, did have a sense of the divine about it. Having Elizabeth come as a pleasant surprise, he now had a piece of Alexander back in his life and it comforted him greatly. As for the damned pirate...

The King looked fully at Violet, his royal brow raised.

"Marcus told me nothing, my liege, to what are you referring?" Violet looked at him suspiciously.

"You are your father's eldest son, he is now wed to your mother, there is nothing you can do about it, you must simply bear the burden as we all do."

Damien, Gabriel, and the King, all sighed audibly as though they carried a great burden.

Violet began laughing at the elder men, "Good God, I must now tell Elizabeth, the news shall surely break her heart."

The four men sat on the veranda, chuckling, as they accepted the fresh brandies that Sadie brought around to them.

" 'Tis only right." Gabriel stated.

"Yes, it is." The King agreed with humor, as they all looked out over Marcus's land. 'Twas land that Marcus had improved upon, where his son was now going to build his dynasty. A home for the unfortunates, ones who would not stay that way, once they came here.

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"How much longer?" Arianna Kent blew a wisp of hair from her face, as she testily questioned her husband.

"We are getting close, love," Drake assured his disgruntled wife, "Please, for me, try to be patient and attempt to stop whining." Drake was ready to be out of the carriage also, her complaining was not helping his own patience presently.

Arianna lifted a brow his direction, "I was merely asking a question, I do not whine."

Drake laughed softly, patting the seat beside him. He tucked Arianna under his arm, as she looked up at him with her mesmerizing, apple green eyes. "I should begin whining also," Drake began, til she elbowed him in the side. His breath hitched at her assault, "But two of us going at it would be quite annoying." He tickled her sides as she wiggled in his arms, thus keeping her from assaulting him again.

"Stop, stop, I will behave." Arianna laughed, as the carriage began to slow. "We have arrived!" She crowed with glee, sitting up straight to look out the window. She could see the manor house coming into view as they rounded the bend.

As the carriage approached the drive, their heads swiveled to see out the other side, Arianna, and Drake, both speaking at the same time.

"What in the...?" Drake's eyes were wide upon the landed vessel, the sheep in the fields looking as whitecaps upon the ocean spread out behind it.

"My Lord... Would you look at that?!" Lady Arianna leaned forward, craning her neck to get a better view of the whimsical ship.

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Until next time, loveys.... Blessings upon you!