Chapter 9

"Yes?"

Caroline paused, thankful that the knock on the door had not caused her to smear the fair copy she was making of the letter in front of her. The paper that the Duke's valet had given her was far too expensive to permit her to use any more than she needed.

The door swung open and the smiling face of James Stanhope appeared. Caroline rose to her feet.

"James! When did you return?"

"No more than ten minutes since," James answered. He stepped forward to give Caroline a light kiss on the cheek. "I understand that I missed my brother in London. Shopping, of all things."

Caroline blushed.

"I think it wonderful news," James continued. "And I have two other pieces of news of my own. First, Father commands me to inform you that supper will be ready precisely at five o'clock."

"Your father actually intends to prepare our supper," Caroline said with a disbelieving shake of her head.

"I assure you he does. It was a tradition when we were youngsters. All the servants were given the night off on New Year's Eve. Father would roast a lamb. It appears he has forgotten a great deal, though. He meekly accepts instruction from your Lucy as if the woman had a whip."

"Oh," Caroline exclaimed. "I should allow Lucy the evening off as well."

"Lucy, my dear, is not a servant in this house. She is a guest. Father made that quite clear to both of us when Lucy asked just now if I should like some water. I was told in no uncertain terms that I knew where the pitcher was, and that if it was empty I also knew where the well was."

Caroline laughed.

"So, we will sup in three-quarters of an hour. My other news is even better. England is at peace."

"At peace?"

"Our representatives concluded a treaty with the Americans in Ghent on Christmas Eve. The news reached His Majesty's government as I was preparing to depart to assist in the final negotiations. With the Congress in Vienna on extended pause, I am delighted to find myself completely out of work for the moment."

"Peace," Caroline echoed. "Oh, James. How wonderful."

"Indeed. At peace with America. Napoleon in exile on Elba. No more fighting."

"If only William and Matthew were here."

"I imagine they would not be in quite as celebratory a mood."

"Why ever not?"

"The Royal Navy will have need for far fewer post-captains and coxswains. William will have his half-pay, to be sure, but in any event it is not the money that they will miss."

"It is the sailing," Caroline said.

"It is the life," James said. "They are not used to living as we do. Oh, don't worry, my love. I know my brother. He will bemoan his fate for a time but it will not take him long to find a new interest. And he will not let Matthew suffer."

"I should hope not. Matthew and Lucy are to be married next month."

"Are they?" James clapped his hands. "That is even more good news. We have much to celebrate tonight then. Shall I bring you down to supper?"

"That would be most kind, James. I do so hope that he and William will be here before the night is out. Really, they should have been here by now. But before you go, may I read you something?"

"Certainly," he said. He took the seat that Caroline indicated.

"Obviously, I shall have to change this letter now to note the peace between our country and your sister's..."

"Courtney!"

"Yes, your sister and I are engaged in a very strange correspondence. I last wrote her in July when I was promised to Sir Edward. I very meekly expressed regret that she would be my sister no more. Yes, please laugh all you like, James."

"Your pardon, madam."

"She evidently received my letter in October," Caroline continued, "and wrote immediately to wish me well and assure me that we would be forever sisters. Do stop laughing, James."

"It is simply too much."

"Yes. May I continue, dear brother?"

James was still laughing, but indicated that she should go on.

"I received her letter last week and started a response of my own. 'Dearest sister: My topsy-turvy world has rotated once again. First, however, I must give you good news. Your father's mental faculties have been restored for the past two months and he charges me specifically with sending you his dear, dear love.'"

"She will be astonished," James said.

"I'm quite sure," Caroline agreed. "Then I tell her briefly of the trial and of your father's astonishing appearance. And of your brother's heroic appearance."

"And of Matthew's comic appearance, I trust. That was the best part."

"I doubt I can do it justice," Caroline said.

James waved his hand.

"I will write a letter of my own. Pray remind her who I am so that my letter does not come as a complete surprise. Oh, and pray do not look at me as if I were an ogre. I was teasing. I have written twice this year, even though as an employee of his Majesty's Foreign Office I could be hanged for corresponding with an enemy."

"James!"

"Oh, it's quite true. Go on, though. Before the constables arrive to arrest me."

"Very well." Caroline turned to the letter. "But you take altogether far too much advantage of my ignorance, James. In any event: 'Since the trial, we — myself, Michael, my servant, Lucy, William, and his coxswain, Matthew — have been ensconced in your childhood home at your father's express invitation.'"

"Demand, more likely," James interjected.

Caroline gave him a look that wiped the smile off of his face.

"'He delights in playing with Michael and is filled with regret that he chased you — and most especially your children — across the sea. He took more delight in Michael's Christmas presents than Michael did, who, after all, is not yet even two years of age.' Oh, I wish you had been here then, James. It was truly delightful."

"Father has always enjoyed Christmas," James said quietly.

"Now here is the important part. You must tell me if I have the tone quite right. And, of course, I will have to add the news about the peace, which clearly is now the most important."

"Oh, clearly."

James had a smirk on his face. Caroline frowned at him and continued.

"'The best news, however, is that I may once again call you sister without any hesitation. William has indicated his intention to propose marriage, and has left for London with his coxswain to get your grandmother's ring resized in order to formalize our promises. I cannot tell you the joy with which this fills me.'"

"William as well," James said. "Marrying into wealth."

"Your brother will be the Earl," Caroline responded sharply.

"And a very, very happy Earl," James said as he stood to kiss his sister-in-law once again. "Father told me your news when I came. 'Peace be damned, ' he said when I told him my news. "Your brother is to be married.'

"As for the tone, I believe you have captured it perfectly. It lacks only the halting, stammering speech in which I'm sure my brother delivered his — not his proposal, mind you, but his intention to propose."

"It was quite charming," Caroline insisted, blushing all the while. "And he wants to have the ring when he proposes. I told him it was unnecessary, and that I felt guilty that it is not in the possession of your sister. But he informed me that its gift is a prerogative of the eldest son and that you had very kindly passed it to him."