The Trials of Alaric (Twist Upon a Regency Tale #8)

Chapter Twenty-Five

“I t is good, if a little premature,” Bea confirmed. “In our tradition, the heir to the earl is given the title Master . Master of Claddach . We do not know about Turstin, but Jamie, the second consort, was always called by the same title. My people have chosen you as their leader and my husband, Alaric.” Her eyes filled with tears again, but she smiled through them.

“Just as well you agree,” Alaric commented, but his own voice was unsteady.

“They knew my mind, I suspect.” Bea had no doubt of it. Her maid Eunys had been certain for days she would choose Alaric when the time came and would certainly have shared that opinion with her sisters and aunts, all of whom worked in the castle. And with her cousins in the town.

“Well then, let us pass on the news about Bebbington and then find the secret gold,” Alaric suggested.

They separated at the main door, Alaric to find her father and Bea to inform Eloise. The viscountess cried. “Tears of relief, mainly,” she claimed when she lifted her face from Tarquin’s shoulder. “I know you would have protected me, Tarquin, but he was determined to separate us.” She turned to face Bea. “He has made trouble for Tarquin. I am convinced he was behind several investors turning away from Tarquin’s canal project, and two months ago, someone tried to kidnap our baby son when the nurse was walking him in Green Park. I think that was Bebbington, too. To trade for me, I suppose, for he told me bluntly, when I said that Tarquin would never let me have Wulfric at Bebbington Close, that he had no interest in Tarquin’s brat.”

Figuring that Eloise needed a distraction, Bea asked about the baby, and received a panegyric that ended with the viscountess in tears again, for she missed her little boy. “But we thought it best not to bring him north with us,” Tarquin explained. “I would have left both him and Eloise at home, but Eloise insisted on coming.”

“I did not want to bring my darling Wulfric anywhere near Bebbington,” Eloise said, “but I also didn’t want Tarquin to confront Alaric without me nearby. I was so afraid. I am sorry I did not just tell you all, Tarquin. What a silly I was.”

Tarquin’s efforts to convince his wife that he liked her just as she was did not require Bea as an audience, so she excused herself and went to find Alaric.

She met him coming up the secondary stairs, on his own. Excellent . “Let’s go to the watchtower now.”

“But we need a chaperone?” The lift at the end of the sentence made it a question.

Bea tossed her chin in the air. “Until I had allowed the others to court me and had made my choice, Papa said. I have made my choice, Alaric.”

In answer, he took her hand, and they hurried down the stair, out a side door, and across the courtyard to the path along the inner wall.

Upstairs in the furnished room, Alaric gave Bea the keys. She unlocked the cupboards. They turned a rose each, their eyes on one another. Something in Alaric’s eyes made Bea very conscious that they had slipped away from the company alone, without telling anyone where they were going, to a room with a locking door and a bed.

She was captured by that look—trapped as surely as if he held her in place. It took a long moment before he swallowed hard and turned to look at the inside of the doors, releasing Bea to do the same.

“Does anything stand out to you?” Alaric asked.

Bea shook her head, but even as she did, she noticed a detail that had slipped by her before. “Here,” she said, putting her hand on the breast of the first Lady of Claddach, Brede, wife to Turstin, the first Master of Claddach. “And here.” She moved her hand to the second Lady of Claddach, Lulach, wife of Jamie.

Alaric’s eyes had jumped ahead, and he was now looking from one to the other, leaning close to see more clearly. “A necklace of some sort,” he said. “A large stone or medal on a chain.”

“The Heart of Claddach,” Bea said. “I thought it was a legend. It is gold, they say, with a ruby in the center, both the gold and the ruby worked into a heart shape. Turstin gave it to Brede as a marriage gift, saying she was the heart of Claddach, and all would know when they saw the symbol on her chest. It was passed down by the family, but no one wore it again until Lulach. It is part of the stories, Alaric, but I never thought it was real.”

“The carver thought it was real,” Alaric commented. “Whoever wrote the rhyme thought it was real. But where is it?”

Bea was following Alaric’s example, leaning in close to the nearest door to peer at the figures. “This fold in her cloak,” she said, pointing to Brede’s chest. The cloak had been carved as clipped to her armor at the shoulder, draping down behind, but at the front falling only to her breasts in graceful folds. “Does it hide another keyhole?” Bea asked. “A little one?”

“Try it,” said Alaric, and Bea poked the key into the fold, looking for a hole. Unsuccessfully, but when she tried the same thing on the trim of Lulach’s ornate neckline, the key slipped into place and turned.

The bottom of the carving dropped away, disclosing a shallow cavity inside the door. A cavity which contained a velvet bag.

Bea touched it. “That is not old enough to be from Lulach’s time,” she objected.

“Whatever is inside is what counts,” said Alaric.

“You open it,” Bea decided. “If it is the Heart, then it is your place to find it.”

Alaric lifted the bag. “It is a fair weight,” he commented. He cupped the base of the bag and shifted his hand to feel what was inside. “A chain and something flattish,” he said.

She was bouncing with impatience. “Open it,” she pleaded.

He untied the strings that held it closed and tipped the contents into his hand. Gold, as bright as the day it was beaten into links and a smooth heart shape. Alaric turned the shape over to show the surface, with its central ruby and the engraving all around—workers in the fields, fishermen, people dancing—similar to the backgrounds of the panels.

“The Heart of Claddach,” Bea said, her voice hushed. “But why did Papa say I am the heart?”

“Because you are.” Alaric’s voice was equally low and reverent. “You are the heart, and this is the Heart. You are the secret gold, and this is the secret gold. This is the symbol of which you are the reality. May I put it on you, Bea? Will you give me the right?”

She knew what he was asking, and she had already given him his answer. Still, something in her wanted it all. “You may propose now,” she replied, and his eyes lit with laughter, even as he lowered himself to one knee.

“Beatrice Collington, Heart of Claddach and possessor of my own heart, will you be my wife? Will you allow me to stand beside you and support you and Claddach all the days of my life?”

Oh! That was perfect. A simple yes would not suffice. “Alaric Redhaven, I will. You have passed my father’s trials and my own. Stand with me as Master of Claddach and master of my heart.”

He rose from his knee and kissed her, then he put the chain over her head, so the Heart nestled between her breasts. Then he kissed her again.

“I love you, Bea,” he said.

“I love you, too,” she told him. It was some time before they locked up the cupboards and the door to the room.

*

When Bea produced the Heart of Claddach, Eunys was as awed by it as Bea had been. Bea gave her the Heart’s bag to put away. Tonight, she would wear the Heart for all to see. She asked for a dinner gown that would do it justice, but Eunys had first to study it and exclaim over it before she pulled from the dressing room a gown in dark green against which the Heart blazed.

Bea and Alaric had agreed to meet in a parlor downstairs and allow the rest of the house party to gather in the drawing room before they entered together. Bea was delayed more than she expected as servants gathered to watch her pass. Eunys must have disclosed the news and it had spread quickly.

She arrived in the parlor to find Alaric had only just arrived. He, too, had been detained by servants who wanted to congratulate him and tell him how pleased they were.

“You look amazing,” Alaric said, his gaze skimming her once and then focusing on the Heart.

“You look splendid,” she returned. “So, do you think Eunys and Colyn conspired?” He was dressed all in black, white, and silver, except for a waistcoat the same color as her gown.

He glanced at it, and chuckled. “Now I know what was in the message that came for Colyn while I was dressing.”

“Let us join the others,” said Bea holding out a hand. He took it and led the way out into the passage. They were greeted by clapping. The passage was lined on both sides by servants, who smiled and clapped as Bea and Alaric walked the short distance to the doors to the drawing room.

Two beaming footmen opened the doors and Skelly announced them: “Lady Beatrice Collister, heir to Claddach, and Master Alaric Redhaven, heir to Turstin Fitz Waudrile and Jamie McAllister.”

Conversation in the room stopped. So did Bea. Alaric must have shared the same impulse to give the servants their dramatic moment, for he stopped too at her side. He lifted her hand, so it rested on his and smiled at her before looking back into the room.

Papa walked toward them with both hands out, one to clasp Bea’s free hand and one for Alaric’s. His glanced at the Heart. “Well done, Alaric,” he said.

“I could not have done it without Bea,” Alaric answered, and Papa’s smile became a broad grin.

“You’ll do, young Master,” he replied, then he turned back into the room, standing at Bea’s side without releasing her hand. “My ladies, my lords, gentlemen, I am delighted to announce the betrothal of my daughter, Beatrice Elizabeth Maeve Collister, to Alaric Theodore Redhaven.”

Mama had recovered from her shock and was at the head of the crowd coming to congratulate Alaric and tell Bea how delighted she was. “He is a fine young man,” she said. “Your Papa has been telling me about how he behaved in the trials. And the Heart of Claddach! I had no idea that it was even real! Papa said he was certain Alaric would find it. Oh, Beatrice, I am so happy. Papa will see you married before…” She broke off and patted her eyes with a lace handkerchief from her reticule.

Aunt Joan put her arm around Mama’s shoulders. “There, there, Mary. Claddach is still with us. We must be glad of that. Especially on this happy occasion. Bea, dear, I am so happy for you. Congratulations, Master Redhaven.”

“Please,” said her betrothed, “call me Alaric, Aunt Joan.”

Mama allowed Aunt Joan to draw her to one side, but she remained near Papa and Bea as the rest of the house party took their turns to give her and Alaric their best wishes.

Until Aunt Lewiston approached, her face grim, her eyes blazing. “You were meant for Beverley,” she hissed to Bea, and she glared at Mama. “Mary and I agreed when you were only a baby.”

“ I never agreed,” Bea replied, even as Mama turned her face into Papa’s shoulder.

“Your son was given his chance, even against my direct instruction,” Papa responded, putting a comforting arm around his wife. Mama surprised him and Bea by turning to face her sister.

“If you had not spoiled the boy, Dorrie, I daresay he would not have given my daughter a distaste for him, but even so, he was not meant for Beatrice. I should not have gone against Claddach’s wishes and let you encourage him to think he had only to reach out and the Isle of Claddach would be his.” She aimed a tremulous smile at Papa. “Neither Claddach nor Beatrice would ever have allowed our island to become subject to an English earldom.”

Uncle Lewiston commented, “Then we have been wasting our time here. Lady Lewiston, order our things packed. Lady Claddach, thank you for an interesting visit. Beatrice, I wish you well of your choice.” His lipped curled and he suddenly looked very much like Beverley. “Elsmouth’s rejected spare. When you could have had my son.”

“You may as well eat your dinner, Lewiston,” said Papa. “The next ferry leaves tomorrow afternoon. I would offer you my yacht, but your son commandeered it and I have no idea where he took it.”

The two men stared into one another’s eyes, and Uncle Lewiston looked away first. “We will take trays in our room,” he informed the servants. “Dorothy and Lucy, you may stay for dinner, but make certain your maid has your trunks packed by eleven in the morning.” He then offered his wife his arm and they left.

“Your mother and father won that match,” Alaric whispered in Bea’s ear, which made her chuckle.

Everyone else was either pleased for Alaric and Bea or too polite to say otherwise, and it was some time before things calmed down enough for Skelly announce dinner. Mama panicked a little when she realized that Alaric and Bea were not sitting together, but Papa suggested, “Lord Lucas would no doubt be delighted to sit next to Lady Eleanor, and that will leave a place beside our daughter for her young man.”

Mama nearly bounced with excitement. “My daughter is getting married,” she said. Papa smiled at her, but Bea noticed that he almost fell the last few inches into his seat. He was pale and had beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Papa looks unwell,” she murmured to Alaric.

Alaric beckoned to the nearest footman. “Lady Beatrice and I are worried this has all been too much for the earl,” he whispered. “Make certain his valet is standing by, in case he is needed.”

“He is, Master and my lady,” the footman assured them. “We are keeping an eye on Lord Claddach.”

“Beatrice,” said Mama at that moment. “Have you and Alaric discussed a wedding date?”

“Soon,” said Papa. Just the one word, his face set as hard as granite. Bea sensed he was holding on to his poise and his pride by force of will.

She glanced at Alaric, trying to send him a message with her eyes.

“If it suits my lady, straight away,” Alaric said.

“The banns,” Mama said.

“License,” responded Papa.

“We are technically part of the diocese of Bangor,” said Mr. Whittington. “If you and Mr. Redhaven give me your authority, Lady Beatrice, I can visit Bangor and obtain a common license.”

Alaric gave her a smile and a nod, and Bea said, “Thank you, Mr. Whittington. If we could have a word after dinner, you can tell us what you require for authorization.”

“Good,” said Papa, faintly. Mama frowned at him, then signaled to a footman, before standing. There was a scrape of chairs as all the gentlemen stood, too. “My dear guests,” Mama said. “I must apologize. The excitement has been too much for me. Claddach, would you be good enough to escort me to my room? Beatrice, dear, would you and Alaric take over for us?”

Bea met her mother’s pleading eyes and gave her a smile and a nod. Well done, Mama!

Alaric picked up his glass and called everyone’s attention. “Ladies and gentlemen, I would like to take the opportunity to propose a toast.”

Well done, Alaric . While the guests were all looking at him, two footmen helped Papa from the room, with Mama hovering at his side.